Under suspicion
by Ottilchen
Summary: Harry Potter certainly never expected to be visited that night, but he learns he is needed, and he is needed now. He becomes a new person so he is safe while he is helping. What will being home again be like from an entirely new perspective? Can he help?
1. Prologue

Under suspicion  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
  
  
"No! NOO! Leave them alone! They didn't do anything to you! Leave them ALONE! It's me you want! Take me! Leave them alone! No! NOOOOO."  
  
Harry Potter opened his eyes. The dementors were away now - finally away - to check on the next cell's prisoner. They had left him supper - a peace of bread and some water.  
  
Harry was lying on the floor of his little cell in Askaban and waiting for the time to pass. He had seen nothing but the cold walls of the grey cell and those horrible dementors in about fourteen years. No, that was not entirely true, he remembered. Once a year he was allowed visitors. These visitors had always been the same people: Hermione Granger, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall - the only people who believed him innocent - or had the guts to say so in court. But their word hadn't been of much use in the progress, for there had been more then three people saying how he tended to break rules all the time. One of those 'more than three' was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, so the progress was lost before it had even began. Harry sobbed. It was all so terrible. He was innocent. INNOCENT! But they didn't believe him. Harry often wondered why they just didn't believe him - nothing was proved, after all. How could it possibly ever be proved, it was not true. The truth wasn't nice also, though, and he had to see it about ten times a day - always, when the dementors checked on him. Harry suspected the Ministry-people had only put up this lie to make life easier for themselves. Of course it was easier this way, much easier - for him it was hell. In truth it had been Deatheaters - about ten Deatheaters.  
  
'But hey - this is not perfectly in order - we don't believe Voldemort has returned, no matter how bloody obvious it is! Hmm. what can we do now? Hey - no problem - we just take a guy near that place - in this case the easiest is Harry Potter - and declaim him the murderer! Yeah - this is easy! Now there is no Voldemort anymore and we can all go back to our peaceful little lives! Hooray - everything is in order again! Well - of course it is, we are The Ministry after all and it is our job to keep everything in order. We are very conscientious of course, and anyone saying anything else gets a life-sentence in Askaban! Ah, and no fan-mail on Sundays, on Sundays we rest, you know?'  
  
There the sarcastic voice in his head was again. Normally he liked it, it was somewhat the only thoughts he ever had that were not entirely depressed. They were angry - furious - but not as sad as the others.  
  
Harry heard the sobbing voice of Lucius Malfoy in the cell next to him. Lucius had been one of the Deatheaters there. Harry had managed to shock him as he wanted to disapparate with the others and Malfoy had been found there by the Ministry. Harry had been found shocked as well - Wormtail, who had been the last one to disapparate, had managed that. Harry had been too busy moaning over the bodies to watch his back.  
  
Lucius Malfoy - though he had paid very well - had been too hard to get out of it all, so the Ministry had imprisoned him along with Harry as an accomplice of the murderer.  
  
Malfoy and Harry had hardly ever said - or better shouted, as there was about ten metres space between the two cells - a word to each other in five years at the same place, but Harry felt somehow sorry for that man, although he had been one of the people ruining his life. He heard Malfoy suffer a lot when the dementors were near and he feared Malfoy might not take it much longer.  
  
Harry heard Malfoy beg the dementors. "Please. please. some more bread! Only a little more. please. I need it. really. please. this only time. "  
  
There was not much point in begging, Harry knew that. He had tried begging for food a few times in his first month there in Askaban. The dementors would just ignore him or beat him up until he would be quiet. He remembered Malfoy laughing at him as he had tried. He had often imagined Malfoy suffering that much and him laughing at Malfoy. Now finally, five years later, he had his chance, but he didn't feel like it. Again he felt sorry for Malfoy.  
  
Harry stared at his bread and listened to Malfoy quietly sobbing in the background. He was hungry. Never before Askaban Harry had known how much hunger could hurt, now the pain was a daily feeling, and it made you insane. The urge to eat something though there's nothing there.  
  
Harry grabbed his bread and raised. Malfoy's cell was about ten metres away and Harry had to throw it exactly in front of the door, where Malfoy could break it in two halves and take it in through the barriers. If he failed, the bread would lie between the two cells where none of them could reach it.  
  
Harry threw the bread and it landed about one inch in front of the barrier. Harry was happy. Happy. Happiness was a feeling he had never felt in five years. Really never. It was the best feeling he could remember.  
  
"Malfoy?" Harry shouted. He hadn't used his voice quite a long time now and it sounded really strange.  
  
The man didn't answer but continued sobbing. He wasn't in a good state, Harry thought.  
  
"Malfoy, do you hear me?"  
  
"Shut up, Potter, leave me alone!" He sobbed, just loudly enough for Harry to hear.  
  
"Malfoy. there's something lying on your doorstep that might interest you!"  
  
"Shut up you ass!" Malfoy managed to yell before bursting into sobs again.  
  
"Damn you, Malfoy, take it before the dementors do so!" Harry shouted as loud as he could.  
  
Finally Malfoy crawled to the door and saw what Harry had done. He looked up at Harry unbelievingly, tears running down his hollow cheeks.  
  
"Y. you did this, P. P. Potter?" Malfoy stuttered.  
  
"Yes, Malfoy. Do you think you'll have problems getting it through the barriers? I thought it would easily work if you broke it apart. Will you manage?" "Y. yes." Malfoy laid his forehead against the barriers of the door, his face towards the floor so Harry didn't know for sure whether he was sobbing again, but it certainly looked like that.  
  
When he had calmed again he only stared at Harry a while before he started laughing like mad. Not like mad - he certainly was mad now. Well, that was the impression Harry had.  
  
"What's so funny, Malfoy?" he carefully asked.  
  
"You are, Potter!" Malfoy yelled back. "What did you do that for, you prat? Do you honestly think I will give you anything in return? You? " Malfoy continued laughing like mad.  
  
'A simple 'Thank you, Potter' would have done it, too' Harry thought, but he knew this was Malfoy's pride. The pride of a Deatheater. Things like 'Thank you' and 'I'm sorry' were words they never used, just to Voldemort. Otherwise it was weak - a Deatheater was never weak. Harry didn't really blame Malfoy for that - all proper Deatheaters were brainwashed.  
  
An invisible Albus Dumbledore was carefully breaking the last protection- charm of Askaban. He was rather exhausted after all the charms and harmless little dark arts spells he had done on the prison. He didn't like those charms he had needed for this task, but he had no problem using them if it was necessary, he was on the good side after all, and good will could excuse quite a lot, as far as he was concerned. Naturally he wouldn't do any harm to the people, that was what he was fighting after all.  
  
Dumbledore knew he wasn't the best in his subject anymore, but he was still rather good and he didn't mind 'Stepping aside for the youth', everyone had a right to become old sometime, and he was beginning to enjoy the use of this right.  
  
'Huh - finally' he thought as he walked towards the cells where the prisoners were held. He reached the boy unseen.  
  
Harry Potter was lying on the cold stones in the cell and sleeping roughly. The boy was terribly pale. 'No wonder' Dumbledore thought. 'With he food he gets here he's lucky he's still alive.' Harry's face was turned to the door with the magical barriers, so Dumbledore could see his hollow cheeks and the dark rings under his eyes. Harry Potter was a mess. 'He should have left this place fourteen years ago' he thought with a guilty feeling in his stomach. 'What kind of friend am I, doing nothing about this in five long years?' But then, it had been Harry's own wish to live through this. "Better 30 long and horrible years in Askaban and then enjoy the rest of my life than live in hiding 'till I die." He had said back then, but Dumbledore didn't think Harry still had such an optimistic opinion of Askaban.  
  
Dumbledore took the invisibility charm off himself. "Harry. Harry, wake up!" he said quietly.  
  
Rita Skeeter would really appreciate it if he was caught now. He could easily imagine what next day's front page of the 'Daily Prophet' would probably look like: Albus Dumbledore sneaking into Askaban - has the greatest wizard of modern time turned against us? He didn't like that imagination though, and he certainly disliked Rita Skeeter a great deal, so he wouldn't risk it.  
  
"Harry, come on, boy! Harry!"  
  
"Don't. please don't. " Harry mumbled quietly. "I didn't kill them. please, believe me. I didn't kill them. no, don't! Don't. Leave me alone! Go AWAY!"  
  
Whatever Harry was dreaming, it certainly didn't sound pleasant. Dumbledore suspected it was something about his treatment here at this horrible place, he knew what this fool Fudge ordered people here to do to his prisoners. Prat.  
  
"Please! Go AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE! DON'T! NOOOOO!"  
  
Harry was nearly screaming now and rolling around on the floor wildly. He was breathing hard and fast and was trembling as if in great fear.  
  
"Harry! Wake up and be quiet, or we will both regret it!" Dumbledore whispered a bit louder. He had bent down and his face was not far away from Harry's now. "Harry!"  
  
Harry woke up with a start. It had been this dream about the Aurors again. Yeah, the Aurors - the Aurors making sure he was not treated too well.  
  
"Harry, finally. I nearly gave up hope to get you to wake up until sunrise and I really wouldn't appreciate being seen here chatting with a prisoner."  
  
Harry turned around and gasped. Was he still asleep or was this Albus Dumbledore standing at the side of his cell in wizarding high security prison in the middle of the night?  
  
"What on earth are you doing here?" Harry asked surprised. The next visiting was not before three month, that much he was sure.  
  
"Please, Harry, be quiet, I do not wish to be caught."  
  
That was definitely Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Sure, sorry." Harry whispered, fully awake now. "Please explain to me what all the secrecy is about, though."  
  
"That's why I am here, Harry. Please understand that our situation out there is not going well in these days, with Voldemort at power and all. "  
  
"Please get to the point, this sounds emergency." Harry interrupted.  
  
"Very well Harry." Dumbledore hesitated before getting back to the actual news. "Well, boy. we cannot do this alone any longer, he is too strong for us to defend ourselves. we need your help, Harry. I know you planned to take your sentence in Askaban, but with the situations being what they are." Dumbledore didn't get any further when he was interrupted.  
  
"Let me get this straight." Harry said. "You want me to break out of Askaban to help you defeating the Dark Lord?" Harry was confused. He had thought Dumbledore of all people would understand his decision.  
  
"Believe me, Harry, I do not like this either, and I would not ask you to do this if it was not absolutely necessary."  
  
"No. Simply no." Harry stated. "There is no way I am breaking out of this, Albus, no matter what is going on out there. Certainly you will know other ways to take them down, don't you? Because it would ruin my whole bloody life if I left this hell now, and you know that. Under no circumstances I am doing that."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. He had wondered a long time whether or not to go here and ask Harry, because he indeed knew what this would mean to his friend. But there had been many lives lost in this war, if one life had the chance to save all of this, it would be plain stupidity not to use that opportunity. But he would not force him, this was a great decision for Harry and only Harry could and would have to make it, the loses were all his after all.  
  
"How are you planning this all anyway? Do you want me to go to the Leaky Cauldron, say 'Hi, I'm Harry Potter, the Askaban escapee, and I'd like to have a guest room until I finally get the opportunity to kill Voldemort to make the world a little bit better?' "  
  
Dumbledore looked down and said nothing for a while. "I thought. you could get a new identity and stay at Hogwarts as a teacher. You always were good at Defence against the Dark Arts."  
  
Harry laughed. Dumbledore wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad sign. He personally didn't see anything funny in their conversation and he feared Askaban had some really bad effects on his friend.  
  
"Harry?" he asked carefully.  
  
"The supposedly most powerful wizard breaks into the safest prison there is to free a supposedly murderer to make him his newest staff member. That's by far the funniest thing I've heard in all the time here."  
  
"So you will?"  
  
Harry immediately was serious again. "No, Albus, please understand how hard this is for me. It would ruin my entire life. Please don't make me do that!"  
  
Dumbledore did his best to hide the sadness. Who could help them if not Harry? "Sure, Harry, I fully understand. It was a bad idea to ask you to do this. But don't worry, we'll somehow manage."  
  
"Fine then."  
  
"I'm sorry I have to leave you with that, Harry. I will head back to Hogwarts now, there's important stuff to do. Goodbye, Harry, I wish you all the best. See you in about four month then."  
  
"Yeah sure. Goodbye, Albus."  
  
Dumbledore was gone. Gone, and Harry was alone again. Alone, with no one but perhaps Malfoy and some Aurors to speak to, and both didn't really like him. Harry grinned to himself before going back to sleep. 'Not really like' was not exactly a good explanation for how they felt about him. The Aurors used to make fun of him anytime they saw him and treated him as bad. as inhuman. as they could without really breaking the law. As for Malfoy. well, he was Malfoy and acted like you would expect him to. It was not really good companionship.  
  
***  
  
Harry Potter woke up after an awful dream. The dementors had just brought him breakfast. Well, what they called 'Breakfast' was some water and a little piece of bread.  
  
And again, Harry had a whole day and nothing to do but to live. Not that it was that easy, though. Many prisoners had strangled themselves or just stopped breathing or something similar. But Harry would survive. He had survived quite a lot and he had already been there for fourteen years now, if he had given up he would have done that earlier, and not suffer five years in hell for nothing. Dumbledore had spoken for him in court and the Ministry had taken his age into account. His sentence - 30 years at least, but Harry was optimistic - was rather mild compared to others, because he was a juvenile.  
  
Harry thought about Dumbledore's visit last night. He had sounded like it was emergency, and Harry knew Dumbledore had huge problems out there as well, but he just couldn't take it. He would never be a free man again, never. But then, as Harry thought about it - How many lives had this war already taken? If he could end it all, would his life - one single life - really be a too great loss considered what it could save? No, it was not. Definitely not.  
  
"How very stupid of mine." Harry muttered. "How very. egoistic. cowardly. "  
  
Those thoughts were enough to make him willing to leave. 'Yeah, leave, escape!' he thought. 'I will leave this place forever tonight.'  
  
Harry grinned and closed his eyes, dreaming of life outside Askaban. Breaking outside would not be a problem for him. No, not at all. He would have to change his look, but he would think about that later.  
  
*** At sunset that evening Harry was ready to leave. The whole plan was set up in his head.  
  
Harry saw the dementors coming. This would be the last time. For now. One last time he would suffer at their presence when they brought him what was called 'supper' over here. He would not eat it today, there were others who needed it more. He would be out in about an hour after all.  
  
When there was enough distance between himself and the dementors, Harry transformed. He chose a mouse, so he could easily slip under the barriers. 'This is stupid' Harry thought. 'They enchant the barriers so it hurts terribly when you touch them. The space between them however. it's naïve to believe there are no unregistered Animagi around.' But then, the Ministry was always stupid, it was no real surprise anymore. Harry Potter was what people called a Multi-Animagus, a wizard who could change into different animals. He was the only of his kind he knew about. There had been one in Seventeen-forty-something, but was all ever registered. Harry had never seriously thought about sharing such valuable information with the ministry, they would probably make it official and his 'nice surprise' for Voldemort would be ruined. Besides, he didn't like the Ministry at all and saw no reason to do them a favour.  
  
Harry had left the little cell within five seconds and was really surprised there was nothing interrupting his escape. But then, he had once heard there were no walls needed to hold people in Askaban, the dementors were doing a good job. They were, but this was still easy.  
  
Harry had pushed the slice of bread and the little bowl of water along with his little mouse snout. Now he put an invisibility spell on himself and headed with nothing but his dirty clothes and his 'supper' for Malfoy's cell.  
  
He pushed the food into Malfoy's cell, careful, not to touch the barriers, because the last thing he needed now was waking up the whole prison with a scream in pain. "Good luck" he whispered before transforming again, this time into a raven.  
  
Harry Potter flew all night long without a single break and finally reached Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry at about eight o'clock in the morning. He had not needed a wand or such to change his face and he had had time enough on the flight. His hair was still messy, but blonde instead of deep black now. He had changed his mouth, ears, nose. his skin had darkened only a little. and - of course - his scar was well hidden. Only his eyes. his eyes. he liked his eyes. Not that he did not like the rest of his look, but he wanted to keep something the way it was supposed to be. And the eyes are the mirror of the soul.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was rather confused as Minerva McGonagall told him there was some man she did not know standing at the entrance of the castle wishing to see him.  
  
"I said you were busy but he insisted to see you right now. I led him into the entrance hall and he took a seat waiting for you. I hope you don't mind."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course not, Minerva. There are Anti-Dark spells on Hogwarts, he cannot be a Deatheater or he would not have reached the entrance. And you should always welcome guests properly. I'm on my way. Wonder who that might be."  
  
Dumbledore also did not know the man sitting in the chair in the hall, but when the man saw him he immediately stood up and greeted the headmaster - with a hug. Now Dumbledore was even more confused. What on earth was that?  
  
"Sorry, er. " he muttered stupidly "Do I know you?"  
  
Now the stranger laughed. "What, don't you, Albus?"  
  
Albus? He had never seen this guy before and he hugged him and called him by his first name?  
  
"Er, sorry. " Dumbledore stuttered. "I do not really remember. " Nothing like this had ever happened before. He usually remembered faces of people pretty well, but he did not recall this one. only the eyes seemed familiar, but you cannot know a pair of eyes when you had never seen the person those belonged to before, now could you?  
  
"Let me introduce myself then. My name is Henry Evans and I'm here because you were looking for a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I think I'd like this job. Is it taken yet?"  
  
"N-no. Please follow me into my office, then."  
  
Albus was totally off. He remembered neither the face, nor the name of this man. Never heard about him before, and he was certainly no former Hogwarts student. He was quite young and Albus would certainly remember this guy. He didn't like that.  
  
"Take a seat, please." Dumbledore offered when they were in his office. The man did.  
  
"So you really don't remember the appointment we made, er." the stranger looked thoughtful. "What's the date, by the way?"  
  
"Huh?" Dumbledore was surprised. Did this guy just ask for the date? "Er. it's Monday, the 20th of August, I believe."  
  
"Fine!" he grinned. "Then. you don't remember our appointment on Saturday night? Getting old, Albus?"  
  
Saturday night. he had done some research on Alchemy notes on Saturday night. then he had been at that. horrible place. But he had certainly not made any appointments. Strange.  
  
Dumbledore was still lost in thoughts about the strange behaviour of this stranger, when an owl entered the room through the window.  
  
"Oh, sorry, just the 'Daily Prophet'!" Dumbledore muttered. He gave the owl three knuts and took the newspaper from it. The title was even larger than usual and Dumbledore knew the answers to all of his problems when he read it:  
  
Harry Potter escaped from Askaban  
  
Dumbledore slowly lifted his head and looked into the - quite familiar, he realised - eyes of his friend.  
  
"Welcome back home, Harry. I missed you." he whispered quietly.  
  
"My name is Henry Evans, you know." Harry said with bright eyes. "But I missed you too. It's great to be back." 


	2. Chapter 1: First back home

1 Chapter 1: First back home  
  
  
  
Ronny Longbottom, Leon Creevey and Martin Whitby were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and waiting for the sorting to end so they could finally eat, since the travel had exhausted them quite a lot. Not only they had got themselves into a fight with some Slytherins, until Professor Malfoy had put a stop to it and taken 20 points off Gryffindor, though school hadn't even started, but Peeves the poltergeist had got the very imaginative idea of chasing them into their cabin using water-bombs just to annoy them. The three boys weren't exactly friends with Peeves.  
  
Albus Dumbledore - though by far the oldest man of the world, still absolutely fit and Headmaster of Hogwarts, nobody really new how he managed that – stood up to make his usual beginning-of-the-year-speech.  
  
"Welcome to your first year at Hogwarts, dear first-years, I sincerely hope you will have a good time here. To all you other students: Welcome back, I really missed you and hope you will enjoy this year like you usually do, or if you usually don't, I hope you will do now.  
  
Before you will get your food now I'll quickly make the usual announcements, as well as inform you about a few changes this year.  
  
First of all: The Forbidden Forrest is as every year forbidden and you should comply with this rule – it is reasonable, you know, because there live quite a handful creatures I am certain you would not be pleased to meet."  
  
Most of the first-years looked frightened, though Ronny did not see why. He had never been near the centre, but it certainly couldn't be that bad. It seemed really harmless from outside, he thought.  
  
"What if we accidentally forget we aren't supposed to go in there?" a familiar Slytherin asked loudly. Nearly all of the Slytherins snickered.  
  
"Whoa – this was really funny!" Leon smirked.  
  
"I agree." Said his friend.  
  
"Don't expect too much from a slimy Slytherin, we don't want to overtax those poor guys, do we? You cannot choose your brain, after all." Was Martin's opinion.  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked at the person this comment had come from. "In that case, Mr Zabini", he said "You must expect, hmm… well, detention, quite a few points off your house… we will see, should that situation ever take place. But don't worry, it's hard to forget I think, considering you'll probably remember that rule every time you think about the name of that forest." He said calmly. "Any more misgivings?" Nobody said a word.  
  
"Fine then. Where did I stop?" Dumbledore looked around.  
  
"Ah, sure – now, second: There is a change within the staff. Under the special circumstances we are in, I found it necessary to hire a new 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' teacher. Not that I was not absolutely satisfied in your old Professor Lockhart's work, but… "  
  
"He was satisfied in Lockhart?" Leon whispered quietly. "That cannot possibly be true – Dumbledore is no fool after all. That was a bad lie, though."  
  
"I am trying my best, Mr Creevey, and I don't think too many of your schoolmates have noticed. Do you?" the old man said, his eyes gleaming mischievously.  
  
Leon blushed. "N.. no, sir."  
  
Damn. How the devil had Dumbledore just heard this? They were sitting in the middle of the table and Dumbledore was more than ten metres away. And he had whispered!  
  
His friends were as surprised as he was.  
  
"Probably enchanted ears or something." Ronny said. They didn't pay attention to Dumbledore that moment, so they didn't see him grin.  
  
"So to the point now: Please let me introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to you… "  
  
The students watched the man who had just raised expectantly, wondering who he was and why he was there. Sure – Lockhart was a prat – but Dumbledore had never dismissed a teacher without a real proper reason, there were more than one prat teaching at Hogwarts and Lockhart had been teaching three years at Hogwarts now without Dumbledore complaining. Besides the school was known for it's problems in getting DADA teachers.  
  
"I know this face." Martin said. "No clue where I've seen this guy but I know him."  
  
"… Professor Henry Evans"  
  
The Great Hall cheered. None of the students new this new teacher or had ever even heard his name, but anyone, so they thought, would be a better teacher than Lockhart had been. Only a few girls, who had still believed Lockhart's fantastic stories, looked unhappy, what changed, though, when a quite handsome man with messy blonde hair and a little beard stepped over next to Dumbledore, where everyone could see him clearly. They wondered all evening how cool this new guy would probably teach the lessons and did not suspect he might not teach the way he had looked up there.  
  
***  
  
Harry Potter unpacked his case and trying to make his private rooms as comfortable as possible, what was not hard, for the house-elves kept everything tidy and there was no place in Hogwarts looking not entirely well. 'Well, that is certainly not true.' He thought, grinning, remembering certain places he had discovered during his own time as a student. Together with Hermione and Ron. Ron…  
  
There were still times when it just hit him. Now he was home again, for the first time after education. As a teacher. It was strange to be there as an adult, at the age of 36, teaching kids. He'd teach children whose parents he probably even knew from somewhere, they were his generation. He'd already seen several red-heads in the Great Hall, certainly Weasleys.  
  
Harry had already met Hermione, who was a member of the staff as well, teaching Runes - and talked about old times a lot. Hermione was one of the few people that had entirely believed him. She had also visited him in that terrible prison on a regular basis, and he was very thankful for that. She was a real friend to him, just like Ron had been… Damn! There he was, thinking about Ron again… He would not even be able to tell him what it was like at Hogwarts again, with his new identity, 'Henry Evans'…  
  
Harry was glad when the painful thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.  
  
"Enter!"  
  
Albus Dumbledore entered Harry's the small hall to Harry's private chambers.  
  
"Hello, Henry. How are you doing?"  
  
"Fine. Really comfortable here, though I had expected this, this is Hogwarts, after all. Only this 'Henry'-stuff is confusing." Henry said. Henry. It was strange, being addressed with a new name.  
  
"Well, there is a lot to discuss, you know, Henry, so do you have time for that now or shall I come back later?"  
  
"No, I don't mind. Come in!"  
  
They entered Henry's living-room, which was just getting decorated properly.  
  
"Huh?" said Dumbledore surprised. Than he grinned. "Henry, what is this?"  
  
"I don't really like this Lockhart guy, so I decided to redecorate a bit here. Does look better, huh? Not perfect yet, but I'm getting to it."  
  
The lots of awful Lockhart-posters that used to grin down from the walls were stuffed into a dustbin, the brown sofa was now bright green and it's shape was changed. That terrible smell of hair-spray and Lockhart's perfume had vanished and where an enormous mirror once had been was now a huge birdcage. The carpet was bright blue.  
  
"This looks… " Dumbledore didn't know what to say. 'Childish' seemed to be the right word for this, but that sounded a bit rude. "… colourful." He ended his short comment.  
  
"I'm making up for five long and simply terrible years in a dark, grey cell, Albus. This has to be colourful." Henry looked down.  
  
Dumbledore didn't know what to say. What could you say to something like that? 'Hey Henry, cheer up, you were innocent?' Dumbledore knew it still hurt, the pain those Dementors had given Henry, or the pain the hatred for something he hadn't even done was still giving him.  
  
"You think I am childish, don't you?"  
  
Dumbledore looked up at Henry, then away again.  
  
"You know what, Albus? I know very well this is childish, though I do not care. I need some colour in life now. And this is probably the only time in my entire life I will be able to act that close to insane without being ashamed."  
  
Dumbledore was delighted to see Henry grin when he looked up again.  
  
"So, Albus, what do you want to talk about?" Henry said, sitting down onto the green sofa.  
  
"Oh – quite a lot. First of all, Henry, very mysterious things have happened at Gringotts last night you should know about."  
  
"Really?" Henry looked doubtful. "You're having me on, Albus. Again… I should get used to your humour, shouldn't I?"  
  
"No Harry, really. Several of Galleons, sickles and knuts have appeared in the vault of a certain Henry Evans last night. None can explain that mystery. Can you help me?"  
  
"Hmm, that's hard. Here my theory: A very good friend of a certain Harold James Potter was so kind and kept that money for him while this guy was in prison to save it from being snatched by some stupid institution called the 'Ministry of Magic'. Then when this guy finally escaped this prison and changed his identity, his friend got his new identity a new vault at Gringotts and filled it with the certain person's money."  
  
"Well, good theory, I must admit."  
  
Henry shut his eyes and ran his hand through his messy hair. After a while, he looked up again and straight into his friend's eyes. He held the eye- contact for a while.  
  
"Thank you, Albus." He said earnestly.  
  
Henry new this had been a great risk for Albus, for if the truth had come out it might have come to a trial. That was one thing about his friend Henry respected a great deal – the man kept to every rule – if he believed in it, that was.  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly, and then continued: "And what would you say if this friend broke into this certain person's place at night and filled it with an awful lot of valuable stuff? Say about a thousand books and a lot of Dark Arts and Anti Dark Arts stuff?"  
  
"Well, that would certainly be quite a shock for that certain person the next morning."  
  
"Indeed, Henry. So wouldn't it be a good idea if the certain person helped his friend take that stuff away? It would be easier for the friend and spare the certain person the shock."  
  
"Good idea. But couldn't they both wait 'til the certain person is ready decorating his place and making space for all that stuff?"  
  
"Sure thing. So tomorrow? You've got the whole weekend to prepare for classes, I don't think you'll get problems with the time."  
  
"Okay. What colour do you think the walls should be in, Albus? Pink?" Henry grinned.  
  
"PINK? Really, Henry, that's too much."  
  
"Okay, then orange." Harry raised his right hand, made a circle in the air and snipped once. The walls were orange.  
  
"What are you doing that for?"  
  
"What, don't you like orange?"  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "I don't mind orange the way I mind pink, to answer your question. No, what I meant was that nonsense with your hand."  
  
"Oh, that. Well, I like the show. How do you do it?" Harry asked grinning.  
  
"I just snip." He snipped once and the walls were white again.  
  
"Why don't you at least raise your hand before you snip?"  
  
"Why would I do so?" Albus asked, confused.  
  
"So all people would see it and adore you."  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "Not that I don't understand you. The fist time I had learned wand-less magic I used to squeeze my eyes shut and play a little with my arms. The whole room became absolutely quiet, all people thinking I had to concentrate. It was really funny, I must admit."  
  
Both sat there in silence, saying nothing but grinning. It knocked.  
  
"Enter!" Harry shouted. Hermione came in and sat onto the sofa next to Harry.  
  
"Hey you two. I see you are busy decorating your place. Looks… funny."  
  
"Colourful." Henry said with a short laugh. He didn't do anything but think about the colour this time. Hermione winced as the walls suddenly became orange again from one second to another, she didn't say anything, though. Albus just smiled.  
  
"Well Henry, to tell the truth, I had asked Hermione to come along. We have some things to discuss you might not like. Voldemort has powers much greater than ever before, you know that."  
  
"That's why I'm here, so yeah, I do know that. Get to the point." Henry said.  
  
"Well… " Dumbledore sighed "You have to make your students prepared, Henry. Really prepared for the worst."  
  
"What, that is all?" Harry said, grinning. "I'm their DADA teacher, naturally I'll teach them to defend themselves a little. What did you think I was going to do?"  
  
"Not the usual, Henry. A student with the usual DADA-education can hardly survive an attack of Voldemort or his Deatheaters. You must be harder on them, much harder. You'll have to teach them stuff you didn't even learn in school. I've brought a bit of the first year-stuff along, take a look." Hermione said, giving Henry a few papers.  
  
Henry watched Hermione. He hadn't noticed she had changed that much. Instead of avoiding even Voldemort's name, she had just told him to be harder with the students. But how could she possibly be the same after all that had happened…  
  
*****  
  
5 years before  
  
"I did not kill them!!!" Harry cried while three Dementors were dragging him out of the court. "I did not kill them! It were Deatheaters! DEATHEATERS!!! Believe me… please… I did not do it… I'm innocent…innocent…" were the last things he could say before he passed out, this time not hearing his parents, but his best friend being killed. And they thought he had murdered him. Ron, his best friend. Why should he murder Ron? Mr and Mrs Weasley had also been killed in the Deatheater-attack, and just because Fudge was a foolish git and Harry had been the last one to be seen with them, he would be in Askaban for fifteen bloody years now. If he survived that long, that was.  
  
But he knew he was innocent and he would force himself to live. Fudge of course was glad he was finally out of the way. No more Harry Potter who would keep trying to convince him Voldemort was back. None would try to make him doubt in his perfect little world was everything in order.  
  
Yes – Fudge's life was absolutely fine now. But Harry was sure Fudge would regret this decision later.  
  
*****  
  
"Henry! Don't you want to see this stuff?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Huh?" Henry interrupted his thoughts. "Uh – year, sure. Let me see." Harry took a look at the papers. "That's for the first-years? We did that in third year. You sure this is the right stuff?"  
  
"Entirely sure, Henry. It won't be easy to teach them that stuff, I know that."  
  
"Not easy? Not possible, I think. How would a first-year possibly learn this? How do you expect me to make them learn this? Thing about Muggle-born people, Herm. They just learn to know the magical world and here we come and force them to deal with werewolves and boggarts? They'll hate me if I even try!"  
  
"See it this way, Henry." said Dumbledore casually. "We don't want to be held responsible when our students die because we didn't teach them to defend themselves properly. Voldemort has power enough I cannot even kill him I'm sure. He will not hesitate attacking people just for the gods of it, you know that as well as I do. None are safe now and we must do our best to save as many as possible. We cannot hesitate just because the students will hate their education. Do you see the point?"  
  
Harry did.  
  
"I do see the point, that doesn't make me hate the entire situation any less, though. But it has to be, huh?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"And the work is all mine. Fine, then", Henry sighed.  
  
"Trust me, my friends, I'll be the meanest teacher ever." 


	3. Chapter 2: A DADA lesson

1 Chapter 2: A DADA lesson  
  
  
  
Leon, Ronny and Martin were shocked as they read the first page of the 'daily prophet':  
  
  
  
1.1  
  
1.2 Harry Potter seen in Australia  
  
1.2.1 Harry Potter, the threefold murderer who escaped from Askaban two month ago, was yesterday seen in Sydney in Australia by a highly respected member of the Ministry of Magic, it was not possible to catch him, though.  
  
1.2.2 The mystery how exactly Potter managed to escape from this highly guarded prison is still not discovered, Harry Potter and Sirius Black are the only people who ever managed.  
  
Potter stunned the man who had seen him and escaped again; the Ministry has sent out a large group of aurors to search in the whole city and in an even larger area, if necessary. Potter will be sentenced to a lifetime in Askaban should he be captured.  
  
A comment from the man who saw him: "I had no chance to catch him, that murderer, because he stunned me right away. I have no clue how he did it, though, 'cause I didn't see a wand with him."  
  
The Ministry agrees with the man that Potter probably has great powers, which are certainly needed to escape from Askaban.  
  
Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic: "With that murderer Potter out there we must certainly all watch our back, for we know what he is capable of and now he has even shown us that he has enough power to do what he wants."  
  
  
  
"Pah!" Leon said. "They should make sure a murderer like that couldn't escape Askaban that easily. Putting us all in danger!"  
  
"I agree, mate!" Ronny complained. "If my dad's Compartment was responsible for Askaban, that wouldn't have happened.  
  
"What should they have done, with the power this Potter has?" Martin said.  
  
"Should have killed him at once, or given him the Dementor's kiss. People like that deserve death!"  
  
  
  
Henry Evans alias Harry Potter was facing the students. Luckily it were first-years so he could practice being mean before he had to face older ones. Harry managed to hide his nervousness pretty well, and he was sure he would get used to the situation within a few days, and the first-years looked at least as nervous as he was, if not even worse.  
  
The first-years went silence immediately as Harry glared at them angrily. So this worked – a good start at all.  
  
"Hello class. My name is Henry Evans and I am your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And I want you to know that this is no fun-lesson but a serious subject. I expect you all to pay attention, take notes and entirely respect me. You will do what I tell you to do and I will make you regret if you don't. Understood?"  
  
The first-years stared at him shocked – they had obviously got a very wrong impression of him at the sorting. Even Professor Malfoy, the potions master, had greeted them more warmly.  
  
"You are Gryffindors and Slytherins and are known for not getting along too well. I will, however, not tolerate any signs of that rivalry and you will regret misbehaving when I am near, I promise you."  
  
At the end of the lesson, Professor Evans had taken 25 points off Gryffindor and 15 points off Slytherin house, and rumours about him favouring the Slytherins slowly followed the quickly spread rumours about him being the meanest git ever.  
  
  
  
"Next is… wait a second… here… oh no, DADA!!!" Ronny moaned.  
  
"They say he was a cruel git favouring the Slytherins. As if one of that sort wasn't enough."  
  
"Yeah! Slimy Slytherins always stick together… Hey, what's going on there?"  
  
In a corner a Hufflepuff first-year girl was sitting, head on her knees, and sobbing uncontrollably. The three boys carefully walked towards the little girl and Leon put a hand onto her shoulder. The girl flinched and looked up to them.  
  
"L… leave me alone!" she sobbed.  
  
"We won't do anything to you." Leon tried to calm her. "Just what's the matter with you?"  
  
"P… p… professor Evans!" she cried loudly. "I… I was late for his lesson be… because… I didn't find the classroom and… and… he said he would… write to my parents… because I… didn't see a… need… in his class. … That's not true… I just didn't find… it… Mum and Dad will… be… so disappointed in me!" she wailed.  
  
"This Evans must really be an ass." Martin said.  
  
"Probably. We'll soon find out." Leon sighed.  
  
"More precisely" Ronny interrupted "We should have found out about five minutes ago."  
  
"Oh fuck… " Leon sighed.  
  
The three friends rushed to Evan's classroom and arrived exactly seven minutes too late. To their surprise, Professor Evans was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Hey, where's Evans? Lost the fun terrorising little students?" Ronny said angrily. "Damn, this guy is really cruel, I tell you. Ask the first-year Hufflepuffs. Pah! He's probably a stupid half-squib enjoying his power as a teacher."  
  
  
  
"…Damn, this guy is really cruel, I tell you. Ask the first-year Hufflepuffs. Pah! He's probably a stupid half-squib enjoying his power as a teacher."  
  
Harry didn't know whether to be sad, to be hurt or to laugh. He had really been hard to that Hufflepuff girl, he knew that, but he had his orders and the students wouldn't learn what he wanted them to if they didn't respect, or better fear him and the stuff he was doing. He didn't enjoy mistreating his students the slightest, but he had agreed to Dumbledore and he wanted the students to be prepared for Voldemort, no matter how hard their education might be.  
  
The other way around, this comment was quite funny. Harry didn't want to sound – or even think – full of himself, but if something like a half-squib even existed – he had never heard that word before – he certainly wasn't one. More the opposite, he was rather a powerful guy. Albus perhaps was closest. Or Voldemort probably. Albus had said his power was enormous now, and Henry didn't think he had overreacted.  
  
Henry decided to check on those fifth-years' abilities first to decide whether he had to catch up on stuff first, he couldn't really imagine any students actually learning something with Lockhart. So he wandered around in the classroom quietly and well hidden under his invisibility cloak and hid a strong looking boy with the 'Tarantallegra' curse to see how they reacted.  
  
  
  
The whole class stared at Thomas Bulstrode as the boy began dancing a fast quickstep.  
  
"The Slimy Slytherin finally gone mad?" wondered Leon loudly.  
  
"It certainly looks like that" his friend Ronny agreed.  
  
"Rubbish." Martin said. "That's a curse. 'Tarantallegra' is what it's called, I read about it."  
  
"I didn't see anyone put a curse on him."  
  
"Me too. We would have seen a bolt from a wand or something similar at least, wouldn't we?"  
  
"I think so, yes. But let's help poor Thomas before we argue about that."  
  
"Oh yeah, first of course help the poor Slimy Slytherin! But how on earth are you planning on doing that, Martin?"  
  
Martin looked at him. "Really, you two should read more, comes in useful sometimes. 'Finite Incan…' "  
  
Before Martin could finish the words, a curse hit him. He was now rolling on the floor with laugher. Now everyone was staring at him. Martin seemed just unable to calm.  
  
"That's not funny, Gryffy!" a Slytherin girl, who had always seemed to fancy Thomas, yelled.  
  
This girl was next. She flew into the air, screaming wildly in fear, and stopped an inch under the ceiling.  
  
Within a minute the whole class was cursed and unable to do anything about that. Martin was still laughing madly, he just couldn't overcome that curse. Leon was hit with the body-bind curse and Ronny was chained to the professor's desk.  
  
About a minute later the door opened and Professor Evens entered his classroom.  
  
Harry Potter did his best not to grin but to look shocked. "What the devil is going on here?" he screamed. Everyone was abruptly absolutely quite except for a girl that was quietly sobbing, Martin, who was still laughing, and some footsteps, which were heard performing some quickstep on the floor.  
  
"You there!" Henry raged. "What's so funny? I want you to shut up and tell me what has happened!"  
  
The urge to laugh suddenly vanished as fast as it had come. Martin was shocked – How was he supposed to explain this? To explain this to a git who would probably take points off if he said a wrong word?  
  
"I… I… I dunno… I don't know, sir." Was all he managed. "But I … I think… I thing someone has… bewitched the class, sir."  
  
"Oh, you think so? I must say I'm surprised. This didn't look like anyone was thinking at all. Hmm…" he paused. Harry Potter looked around the class. "Do you have any suspicion who might have been the one bewitching you?"  
  
A long pause. "That murderer Harry Potter, trying to take over Hogwarts!" A Slytherin boy declaimed. Several girls screamed.  
  
"Stupid girls." Leon muttered and rolled his eyes. His friends snickered in agreement .  
  
"Silence!" Harry ordered. He didn't like the way those kids thought about him. Had people raised their children telling them stories about Harry Potter murdering people instead of Harry Potter destroying You-know-who? Not that he missed his fame, but he didn't like this either.  
  
Then, slowly and carefully, Ronny raised his hand.  
  
"Longbottom!"  
  
"I think you might have been the one bewitching us, sir."  
  
There it was again – Harry didn't know why but he didn't like it. He had to do something about it before they got used to it. Why not do it now.  
  
"Don't call me 'Sir', Longbottom, I don't like that. Call me 'Professor', okay?"  
  
The boy nodded.  
  
"Fine then – why would I as your teacher bewitch you?"  
  
Silence again.  
  
"Because you hate us all and enjoy it you git." the crying girl spat.  
  
The whole class was shocked. The girl next to the crying one fell of her chair and all students backed away from Harry, fearing his reaction. He was known for being an unfair git after all, and something like this would certainly make him explode.  
  
Harry was not really angry – they weren't used to proper DADA classes at all, with that prat Lockhart teaching them – but he was sad. Really sad. Did they really dislike him that much? He knew he wouldn't be very popular with his methods to teach, but it wasn't really the same as hearing it from a student. When he had imagined teaching here, Harry had thought he'd get along with the students, not unlike Remus had done.  
  
'Don't show them you care!' his brain ordered. 'You're supposed to be an ass, so don't let them know you care!'  
  
Henry casually walked over to the girl and bent down. His face was now in the same high as hers and about three inches away. He looked straight into her eyes.  
  
"What's your name, girl?" he spat back.  
  
"S… Susan Wood, sir." said the girl, obviously a little frightened now.  
  
"Then listen to me, Miss Wood. Please tell me how you would definite the word 'hate', will you?"  
  
Susan Wood looked confused. "How I'd definite 'hate'? Why… why do you want to know that, sir?"  
  
"Because I'm pretty sure we are not talking about the same thing, Miss Wood. Try to definite it now the way you understand it, please, or is that task too much for you to take?"  
  
"N-no, sir. Well, 'hate' is… well… great dislike."  
  
"You really don't see a difference in 'hate' and 'dislike', Miss Wood? Can anyone explain the difference to Miss Wood?"  
  
Leon was thinking. He new what Evans meant. 'Hate' was, well, stronger than 'dislike'. But should he risk it and raise his hand voluntarily? Well, Ronny had done so and was okay.  
  
Leon's hand was up about an inch above the desk when he remembered that Hufflepuff girl sobbing in the corner. How would his parents react if they got a letter saying that he was 'undisciplined' or some other word teacher often used. He decided he'd better not find out and quickly pulled back. Unluckily, Evans had already seen.  
  
"Mr Whitby?"  
  
"Er, nothing, sir."  
  
"Too late, Whitby, I want your opinion now. So?"  
  
"Well, sir, I think… I think 'hate' is… er… stronger, sir."  
  
"Yeah, Whitby, I agree. And, I hope I don't have to say that too often for you to finally get it: Keep that bloody 'Sir' for wiser people than me, Albus perhaps. Okay?"  
  
The professor paused and the class was a little startled. Were they supposed to respond?  
  
Now that Evans git turned to Susan and started speaking again. "'Hate', Miss Wood, is far stronger than 'dislike'. When I dislike someone a great deal I wouldn't mind kicking his ass unless the punishment is too great. But when I hate someone… and I mean really hate… " Evans' eyes were shimmering and he seemed really dangerous now. The class was entirely quiet. "… then I need some great will to stop myself from killing him the moment I sense him, no matter what the punishment was."  
  
He paused and walked to the front where his desk was, then turned around to the class.  
  
"In the end… " he said, "I'm happy I had the great will and didn't ruin my own life along with my enemy's, or I'm depressed because I've lost control and I'm Askaban as the result."  
  
With that Evans finished and turned his attention back to Susan Wood.  
  
"Do you still think I hate you all, Miss Wood?"  
  
"N-no, sir."  
  
"That's good, Miss Wood. Believe me, I don't hate a single one of you, and you must give me really proper reasons to make me, so don't worry, there is no way I might walk in here and kill you off. Okay?"  
  
Susan Wood nodded.  
  
"Oh, you sure, sir?" Martin Whitby muttered, grinning. As if just realising what he was doing, he quickly lowered his head.  
  
"I don't like being spoken to that cheekily, Whitby. Five points off Gryffindor."  
  
The boy didn't complain so Harry suspected he really was a Gryffindor.  
  
"Why do you think, by the way, Whitby?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, sir. I'm sorry, sir."  
  
"I know you are. Another five points off Gryffindor for that 'Sir', by the way. Now tell me what you were talking about or you will take the consequences."  
  
"The… the Imperius Curse, sir." Martin stuttered.  
  
His dad had told him some stuff about it. The Imperius Curse was one of the three 'Unforgivable Curses'. That were curses which were forbidden by the Ministry of Magic. The use of those curses was punished with some long years in Askaban, sometimes even a life-sentence.  
  
As far as he knew you could control a person absolutely with that curse – the person would be forced to do everything you wanted. This curse was often used by Deatheaters to control their victim. They also used the curse to make people help them with… well… with what they used to do… to murder, to torture… that kind of stuff. And only the most powerful wizards could break that curse, there were very few that would actually manage.  
  
"Very well. Does anyone but Whitby know about the Imperius Curse?"  
  
Ronny and Leon both carefully raised their hands.  
  
"Yeah, Creevey? Can you tell me what it does, then?"  
  
"You can entirely control a person with that curse, si… Professor, and it's very hard to break it."  
  
"Aha. And do you think this curse can make me come in here and murder you off, Whitby?"  
  
"Well, I know you must be a specially powerful wizard to break that curse. My father can't for example. Even Mr Longbottom can't, and he's one of Britain's best aurors after all. So I think you will hardly be able to break it, sir."  
  
Ronny grinned widely. He didn't admit it – not even to himself – but he loved his father's fame. He often was in the 'Daily Prophet' when he put away some people who were deep in the dark arts. He was somewhat of a little hero.  
  
Evans looked really surprised. "Really? You're having me on!"  
  
What was this about? Leon didn't know what Evan wanted now. "Huh?" was his final reaction.  
  
"Did you mean this, Whitby?" Evans said, laughing loudly. "Neville Longbottom, a famous auror? Certainly not! Neville Longbottom could impossibly have the guts… " Harry realised he had chosen the wrong words, when he was interrupted.  
  
"Sure he has, you git! My father is the best auror the Ministry has had in years! He's the best, did you hear me? He could put you down anytime, you… you stupid…"  
  
Ronny was standing now, his face red with anger. How did this prat dare insulting his father? Everyone adored him… if his father were here now…  
  
"You foolish, stupid… "  
  
"Half-squib?" Evans finished his sentence.  
  
Suddenly Ronny realised what he was doing and sat down again, ashamed and afraid. Evans certainly would punish his little outburst hard. And detention of course, but that was by far not the worst that could happen to him now. 'Try to save this!' he thought.  
  
"I… I'm very sorry, sir, I… I didn't mean… I didn't mean this, sir, I just… just…"  
  
"You just wanted to defend your father, didn't you, Longbottom?" Evans spat. "That is no reason to behave like this, Longbottom, you should know that. I certainly do not wish to be spoken to like that, boy. You cannot afford that. Thirty points off Gryffindor and detention this evening at 7pm here. Understand? And I will tell your heroic father about the way you behave in front of people you are supposed to respect. Should anything like this ever happen again, the consequences will be worse. Anything else?"  
  
Ronny just sat there, not looking up, not saying anything. He just stared at his desk.  
  
Ronny didn't really see a reason but he felt awful. First this guy dared insulting his father, then he didn't accept his apology but punished him that hard… None had punished him that hard before, and he had done far worse things… like putting a couple of little nice insects into Malfoy's bed. Well, Malfoy had caught him in the act, but he had not written to his parents… fuck you, Evans! You're the worst ever!  
  
Ronny hastily packed his trunk and stood up in order to leave. Should Evans do what he wanted to right now, he didn't care. He just couldn't bear to see this face right now – particularly not constantly for the rest of the lesson.  
  
"Longbottom!" Evans exclaimed "If you leave this classroom now, it'll be ten more points off Gryffindor!"  
  
Ronny was too furious to care. He looked straight into Evan's face a last time for now.  
  
"See you at seven, Professor !" he spat and left the room without a look back at the excitedly whispering class.  
  
Leon and Martin raised at once to follow their friend. They had a feeling he might need a friend now and they certainly wouldn't let him down.  
  
"Hey you two!" Evans voice came from behind. "Are you aware of the fact that if you follow Longbottoms good example now it will be ten points off for each and detention this evening with Longbottom?"  
  
"We are, Professor, no need to mention it." Martin said calmly. "See you later then!"  
  
"Be sure you will. 'Till later, Whitby and Creevey. Anyone else wants to follow?" he asked the shocked class.  
  
The students didn't dare breathing; Harry took that as a "Do we look insane, Professor?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
Harry walked over to his desk and took a look at some sort of parchment, which he watched closely for about half a minute.  
  
"Mischief managed" he whispered before leaving the class without a word explaining where he would go or when he would be back.  
  
Within half a minute Harry Potter had reached Leon and Martin, who were on their way to Gryffindor common-room or their dorm, where they suspected Ronny might have gone.  
  
"He's at the Quidditch pitch." Harry informed them before they had even turned around.  
  
The boys looked confused.  
  
"You are searching for Longbottom, right?"  
  
"Yeah… 'Course we are."  
  
"Fine. You will find him at the Quidditch pitch."  
  
Without a further explanation, Harry turned around and headed back to class.  
  
"Probably a trick so we won't find him." Leon said  
  
"And if he's really there?"  
  
"And why would he be there?"  
  
Both boys paused.  
  
"So he can be sure we won't find him if we follow him. He looked really mad as he left."  
  
"Hmm… and how would Evans know, anyway?"  
  
Finally the boys decided to look for Ronny at the Quidditch pitch first, where they found the red-haired boy sitting on a seat on the tribune and thinking about what that git had just said about his father 'impossibly having the guts…' , and about what he'd done in response. Bloody start of the day…  
  
***  
  
Professor 'Henry Evans' entered his class and found his students chatting about the lesson. He had to shout "Silence!" rather often and quite loudly to get their attention, but he didn't feel like taking any more house- points off.  
  
"So, where did we stop? Ah sure, Miss Wood. So, I'll use the moment to remind you that I want to be called 'Professor' or 'Professor Evans' or something similar – neither 'Sir' nor 'Git' will be accepted. Okay?"  
  
The class nodded.  
  
"Fine then. Now, let me try my best to teach you… There's much we have to repeat or better learn, for I'm sure that old fool Lockhart hasn't given you any information in his heroic books that might in any situation be of use. He has 'taught' me once too, you know… horrible year. Well… I'll start checking the most important stuff of first year next lesson, 'cause this lesson is as good as over and I want you all to be present. By the way… would any Gryffindor be so kind and take the trunks of Mr Whitby and Mr Creevey with you?"  
  
A red-haired boy hesitantly raised his hand.  
  
Harry didn't look at him properly, but answered "Thank you, Mr Weasley." Damn – why were there so many Weasleys around? It really hurt looking at them. He didn't even know who the father of this guy – Thomas Weasley - was. No matter who the father was, this guy looked really a lot like Ron in his age… and he was thinking about Ron again. Why couldn't he stop that for even 24 hours?  
  
But he knew why. Because he had seen him die. Not once, but every-time the dementors had checked on him – that was about ten times a day. Now Ron was only there in his sleep, but that was enough as far as he was concerned. Not that he wanted to forget Ron, of course not, but he preferred memories of Ron sitting at the lake chatting with him, Ron in lesson, Ron playing chess… just anything… to the memories of Ron lying lifeless on the ground.  
  
The bell rang, the lesson was over now.  
  
"Aah, before you leave: Yes, it was me who bewitched you, and I did it to see how you would defend yourselves, which you didn't do at all. This was the first time I did this to you, so you are excused for once. But be certain I will do this again, and if you don't act any better than you did today, it will be points off both Gryffindor and Slytherin." Harry informed the class, that once again stared at him.  
  
Then he slowly went towards the Great Hall, thinking about what he was to do with the three kids in detention that night. He wanted it to be useful but not too hard… he somehow liked those kids.  
  
'Well, no matter what you think of those guys, they certainly won't like you at all after what you are going to put them through…' he thought. 


	4. Chapter 3: Detention, a plan and the res...

1 Chapter 3: Detention, a plan and the result  
  
It was two minutes to seven o'clock when Ronny, Leon and Martin reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They dreaded knocking. Lessons with this git were hell and they did not like the idea of finding out what he would do for detention.  
  
At exactly seven o'clock they knocked carefully. This would certainly not be nice, but he would probably be in even worse mood if they were late, they suspected.  
  
"Enter!"  
  
The three friends slowly opened the door and saw Harry Potter – in the shape of Henry Evans - sitting at his desk. He didn't wear his usual teaching robes but ones the colour of his eyes, with a red collar .  
  
There were three small, comfortable looking, bright yellow armchairs facing his desk.  
  
"Take a seat" Harry offered. They did.  
  
"So, this is detention and first of all I want a word with you three." Harry said. He looked somehow… friendly. Friendlier than before. But this impression might as well be wrong.  
  
"Mr Longbottom. " he addressed the boy. Harry looked straight into Ronny's eyes and the boy was a bit frightened. He was the main cause of this detention after all, and Evans would certainly not go easy on him. But Ronny didn't regret what he had done.  
  
The boy said nothing.  
  
"I think you got something wrong this morning, Mr Longbottom." Harry said. "I certainly did not mean to insult your father, boy. I was just a bit… surprised. You know, I had not heard of him for quite a while, and I had never expected him to become an auror for the Ministry. His greatest skill was always Herbology, you know?"  
  
Harry did not know how to explain. 'Your daddy used to act like a coward at school' was the best way to put it he thought, but he wanted to calm the boy down a bit, so this wouldn't work. So 'skilled in Herbology' had to be enough.  
  
"Although I really understand your reaction" he said, remembering how he had felt when Snape had spoken ill of his father, "you were not allowed to walk out off class like that. The same for Mr Creevey and Mr Whitby."  
  
All three quietly mumbled something like 'Sorry, sir'.  
  
"You got your punishment so this is fine now. Now that this is all talked about, would you mind helping me prepare for my next lesson?"  
  
He waited while the three boys looked at each other.  
  
"We have to, don't we?" Martin asked.  
  
"Sure you do. So, what has Lockhart taught you in three years?" Harry asked. In about thirty seconds Martin had listed everything they had learned and Harry found that nothing of 'Lockhart's favourite colour is lilac' and stuff like that would be of use fighting evil. They were far behind indeed.  
  
"Ouch, this is hard…" he said under his breathe.  
  
"Come again, sir?" Leon asked.  
  
"Oh, er, nothing… " Harry said. "I just realised Lockhart has taught you exactly what I feared he would. Well, I'll have to repeat the important stuff before I start with my plan. I won't use more than two weeks to catch up though, so prepare for a hard time!"  
  
Harry actually laughed when the three boys groaned loudly.  
  
"Sorry, boys. Now, the stuff I was planing to do with you will certainly not be pleasant, but necessary. I want to know how you think about that."  
  
The boys looked at him. "What is that you are planning?" Leon asked.  
  
"Hmm… First of course some first year stuff… I didn't learn much in first year DADA from that stuttering Quirrell guy and I'm fine by now without perfect first-year knowledge, but Dumbledore gave me some easy stuff to do. We'll do the most important in class and I'll give you copies of the rest to learn on your own, I think…"  
  
'Come again?' Ronny thought. 'You'll give us the stuff of nearly a whole year? That's mad!'  
  
But he didn't say anything.  
  
"Then second year… " Harry continued. "We had that Lockhart prat and learned absolutely nothing… except perhaps how to mess up a class with some gnomes… he really was a fool." He muttered.  
  
"I agree." Martin and Leon said in unison. Realising they were speaking ill of a teacher, they paled, but Evans didn't say anything. That would be because of the dislike that git himself had towards Lockhart, they guessed.  
  
"We'll do it the same way as with the first years stuff. Then third year. Ahh – that one was marvellous… oh, I miss Remus… he doesn't miss me much, though, I fear…"  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
Remus? Who the hell was Remus? What was he talking about? The kids looked at him confused.  
  
"Huh? Oh, sorry, I was lost in thoughts." Harry said. "We'll do more third year's stuff in lessons, I think. Plus I want you to perform a Patronus. Yeah, that's cool. And then… then it really starts."  
  
With that Harry stared at his students and met the gaze of each of them.  
  
"I will make you deal with the Unforgivable Curses, boys." he said quietly.  
  
All three boys gasped.  
  
"Y-you can't! That's highly forbidden – they will throw you into Askaban! Those are dangerous dark curses! That's… that's INSANE!" Ronny exclaimed. His father had told him a lot about those. They were the most dark, dangerous and evil curses there were. And his father was one of the very valiant men fighting the people using them.  
  
"And that's where you're wrong, Mr Longbottom." Harry spoke again. "It's not just that I can… but I must. And be certain I will."  
  
"And how are you planning to do that?" Martin Whitby spat. "Do you really believe the Ministry will not know? And do you think you can fool Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard on the world, right under his nose? You?"  
  
"I do not plan to." Harry said calmly. "This is an order from Dumbledore and he has managed – I do not know how myself – to get the Ministry's permission."  
  
"Dumbledore would never do that. Never, do you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, he would. Like you said, he is a great wizard. He wants you to become great wizards as well, so you have to do some practical work. Do you see the point?"  
  
The students were shocked. This was not how it worked. They were kids, they were supposed not even to know about those curses properly.  
  
"Well, now you know and I will let you think about it in peace. But please think about why I'm doing this as well, I don't like those curses, too , believe me."  
  
"Fine then. Dismissed!" he said as there was still no reply.  
  
It took the boys about ten seconds to actually realise what the professor had just said, but then they more fled than left the room.  
  
  
  
It did not take long until the whole school had heard those rumours about Professor Evans planning on teaching stuff about the Unforgivable Curses and a loud discussion about 'that git' was taking place in the common room the same evening.  
  
"He cannot do this to us! I will write my parents to take me from this school if he really dares!" A sixth-year girl declared.  
  
"Yes, this is really mean!" some second-year said, but very few people listened.  
  
"Let's take revenge on that git!" Ronny shouted so they would all hear it. A moment of silence.  
  
"Yeah, he's right! Let's show him he can't do what he wants with the Gryffindors! Let's pay him back!" A fourth-year shouted.  
  
The whole common-room filled with loud cheers. Everybody chattered excitedly what the best and meanest charm to use on the Professor would be. A seventh-year interrupted it.  
  
"And how exactly, if I may ask, are you planning on taking this 'revenge'? What do you want to do? If they catch you – and be sure they will – it will probably not only be about a hundred points off Gryffindor, like last time…"  
  
He looked at Ronny, Leon and Martin, who blushed, remembering that awful incident with Malfoy which had cost them the house-cup. Unpleasant really, it had been.  
  
"… but you will probably get expelled, if I assess Evans right, and I believe I do."  
  
The Gryffindors considered what the prefect just had said.  
  
"But we will be more careful this time!" Martin announced. "Do you think we didn't learn our lesson back then?"  
  
All Gryffindors stared at him.  
  
"And! We are not three, but about seventy people! Don't you think we will come up with the perfect plan if we all work together? Don't you think seventy people – seventy Gryffindors, that is – will manage proper revenge on one single stupid professor? Sure we'll succeed, and Evans will get it all back! We are Gryffindors, we cannot just watch him treat us like that!"  
  
The Gryffindor common-room was filled with cheers again, and a lot of – mostly the younger – kids were impressed with Martin's speech. He was a smart guy.  
  
"Fine then, have it your way!" the prefect spat. "But I will not get involved with this! Do not count on my help!"  
  
A few students refused to help as well, mainly sixth- and seventh-years, but they were still about fifty-five students and the others wouldn't tell them on at least. That was a start and it didn't take long to bring up a plan. They didn't plan to actually seriously hurt him, but give him the fright of his life. More than one, actually.  
  
Merely the preparations for 'The night' cost them quite some time. They also spent fifty galleons in Zonko's, what was not too much of a problem, for everyone involved in the plan paid only a little and they all could easily afford that.  
  
Three days later Mandy Ackerley, a blonde pretty girl in second year, knocked at the door to Evans' private rooms. It was fifteen minutes to eight and if everything went like planned she would only have to distract him for about half an hour. They had done a good job, so that would not be much of a problem, they suspected.  
  
This would be an eventful night for Evans, she thought mischievously.  
  
  
  
"Enter!" Harry Potter shouted when he heard a hurried knock at the door. He had been reading a book called "Most difficult and dangerous curses" by Quentin Trimble. And the curses were dangerous, he knew, but he did not care, as long as this book was in his – and only in his – hands. He would do his best not to get his students have a too close look at it. Quentin Trimble had written a couple of very useful Defence books he liked to use in class, but this was full of spells and curses which could be misused in the wrong hands. And they were difficult to perform, so there would certainly be accidents if a… not that talented… magical person practised them.  
  
A blond girl entered the hall of Henry's place. She looked… wet. Plainly wet, water dripping from head to feet. She looked like she had been swimming in the lake or something, but of course that couldn't be it.  
  
'Strange' Harry thought. He had expected Albus, Herm, Minerva or any other staff members, but certainly not… er, what was her name again? And why had she come to him instead of any other staff member? This didn't look like she needed any help with DADA homework at all, and even if she had, any student would have been too terrified to come to Harry for help.  
  
He knew it was a Gryffindor… a second-year Gryffindor, yeah…  
  
Harry went through all the Gryffindor second-year girls he could think of, trying which name would fit with the face.  
  
He had it – this was Ms Ackerley, Manly Ackerley.  
  
  
  
"If you need a towel, Ms Ackerley, please ask one of your house-mates." Harry Potter sneered.  
  
"N-no, sir, please, this is emergency!" the girl said hurriedly. "Please come quick, there is a leak in a pipe of a girls' bathroom! There is water everywhere! Come quick, sir!"  
  
Harry Potter calmly walked towards the Gryffindor common-room, wondering why on earth the oh-so-brave Gryffindors had not managed to repair a simple leak themselves. He hoped it was only a simple leak.  
  
"Tell me, Ms Ackerley, haven't you tried to fix that yourself yet?"  
  
Mandy Ackerley shyly smiled. "Oh, but of course, sir! But even the older ones haven't managed. It seems to be impossible to repair it!"  
  
Harry fastened his walk to the Gryffindor common-room. A simple 'Reparo'- charm could fix quite a lot, so this might be serious.  
  
The first thing Harry perceived for the room were many loud screams. High- pitched girl screams, even worse. Then there was the water. There was water really everywhere, Mandy Ackerley had not exaggerated. The moment Harry climbed into the room through the portrait-hole he found himself knee-deep in water.  
  
"Bloody hell, what on earth happened here?" he muttered.  
  
The students were busy saving their property from the water, it seemed.  
  
Harry walked up the stairs from where the water seemed to come. It was the second-year girls' common-room. Up there and now also wet from head to feed, he saw a couple of sixth and seventh-years trying to repair it, of no avail.  
  
"What have you tried to do to put an end to this mess?" he yelled, to be heard despite the pouring water.  
  
"A 'Reparo'-charm, but it wouldn't work, even if we all did it together, sir!" Kevin Smith, one of the few seventh-years who had agreed to help with the plan, shouted back.  
  
"Of course it wouldn't, boy, a 'Reparo'-charm's effect doesn't multiply done by more than one person, you are supposed to know that!" Evans replied, grinning at the thought of about ten nearly grown-up students pointing their wands at the leak stupidly and yelling 'REPARO' in unison several times, wondering confusedly why this wouldn't work.  
  
'I do know that, you stupid git, but you are the one supposed to handle this. I'm eager to know how long you will take.' The boy thought.  
  
Kevin had seen this Martin Whitby's preparations and he'd been there when the boy had cast all the curses and spells onto the pipe. He had done pretty good work and it would be damn hard for anyone to find a solution to this well over-thought problem in less than a few hours.  
  
The imagination of all the staff panicking, tearing into the library and sitting over hundreds of spell-books to save the whole castle from drowning somehow amused him.  
  
"Hmm, let me see…" Evans muttered. He pointed his wand at the leak.  
  
'Ha!' Kevin thought mischievously. 'Now, Professor, come and try your best to end this, but be sure you will fail…"  
  
Harry thought. A simple 'Reparo' didn't work, so this was not a simple leak. Someone had enchanted the pipe, that much was certain. And he could not redo this properly… if he did not know what had be done to this pipe. So he would find out. How did this spell just work… ah, sure.  
  
"Carmina investigo!" he shouted and then he suddenly knew. He didn't know how he knew but he did – not only suspect, but know. "Wow" he breathed.  
  
The charms on this pipe were not too hard to perform, it even could have been a student. And not dark the slightest. Harry Potter sighed in relief. Now, this was easier than he had feared.  
  
With a wave of his hand he undid a curse, placed to stop him from enchanting the pipe.  
  
It was a rather powerful spell, so Harry suspected more than one person had performed it. That was likely, because it was common knowledge that its power grew the more powerful the performer – or performers – were. If the people – that was him in this case –who tried to enchant the object were less powerful than all performers together – he didn't know who, or how many, that were – it wouldn't work.  
  
Kevin Smith looked astonished. He – together with Martin Whitby, Ronny Longbottom and Leon Creevey – had performed the curse. They had been four people! Four! They had assumed nobody but perhaps Albus Dumbledore would be able to break through it. Was this guy, this fool – Henry Evans – more powerful than the four of them together? Impossible – was he?  
  
Harry Potter noticed the boy's expression. Was he the guy – or one of the guys – behind this? But why dump your own common-room? This didn't make sense.  
  
"Anything wrong, Mr Smith?" Harry asked.  
  
"Er… N-no, sir. Thanks for your help." the boy stuttered and ran out of the room, leaving a now confused professor behind.  
  
This really didn't make sense.  
  
With another wave of his hand Harry Potter made the water disappear and walked out of Gryffindor tower. He put that useful invisibility charm onto himself and ran. Soon he caught up with Kevin Smith. He was sure the boy was up to something and he was rather curious what it was, for it seemed to have something to do with him. So he would find out.  
  
Harry Potter knew he was a damn nosy person, but that wasn't always a bad thing and so he didn't really mind. That evening, nosiness came in useful.  
  
  
  
Kevin Smith ran through the corridors and over the stairs of Hogwarts castle for a few minutes until he reached Professor Evan's private rooms. He looked carefully in all directions but saw no one in the empty hall, so he entered the door quietly.  
  
Evans' chambers looked really strange, unlike you would expect any adult to decorate his place. The walls in Evans' hall was bright green. There was a Muggle telephone on a small table in a corner. A large photo in a frame was hanging at the wall to his right. There were a girl and a boy he did not know on the picture. The boy looked a lot like Thomas Weasley, he noticed, but had a longer nose. He knew that girl – quite good looking girl – as well from somewhere. Hmm…  
  
"Granger?" he mumbled surprised.  
  
He had noticed Granger and Evans got along pretty well – they seemed to be friends, in other words. So why not? But it still seemed strange that the teachers kept photos of each other in their private rooms. Besides, Granger was a great teacher as far as he was concerned. She was nice, fair… everything you expect a good teacher to be. Evans though… 'git' was the most fitting description they had found for that… person… so far.  
  
Kevin was angry at himself for being lost in thoughts instead of doing what he had come – what he had run – for. This was important.  
  
"Hey, where are you, you three? There is trouble!" he called.  
  
There really was trouble.  
  
They had expected that git to be busy with the 'accident' in the common- room for some time, not to handle it in five minutes. The charm had been strong, they had cast it with four people, so an ordinary teacher – a specially stupid teacher – was not supposed to handle that alone. They had expected Evans to run for help or something… something that cost more time. If Evans came back to his place now, while they were working… it wouldn't turn out that much fun. Really not.  
  
Three people stared as they saw Kevin Smith standing in the hall. Why on earth did this prat not stick to the plan? He might ruin it all! If he got them caught… bloody hell.  
  
"Kevin, what are you doing here, idiot!" Ronny raged.  
  
"Ronny… Evans repaired the pipe!" Kevin defended himself.  
  
"WHAT???" the three boys gasped in unison.  
  
"Yeah, he did it. All alone, within a minute. I feared he might head back here so I ran to warn you. We must leave!" Kevin said hastily.  
  
"That's… that's impossible, we were four!"  
  
"How can a single person undo this curse?"  
  
"Did Evans SEE you running here, Kevin? Did anyone follow you? You might get us EXPELLED, you fool!"  
  
"No, guys, it's all right. But we must leave now – he'll be back soon. Are you done? And now did you manage to lift that… thing?" he said, grinning brightly.  
  
"Luckily, we are nearly, and yeah, it did work. Only the note, wait…" Ronny said and rushed into Evans' – colourful – kitchen, laying a little peace of parchment onto the table.  
  
"That's it!" he declaimed as he was back. "This will make sure he treats us properly in future, trust me!"  
  
Ronny, Leon and Martin laughed.  
  
"What exactly did you write onto that parchment?" Kevin asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing of importance, really." Leon answered.  
  
***  
  
The four Gryffindors left Evans' place and ran back to the common-room. Everything was planned and the loss of time had not ruined their plan as they had feared, because nobody had seen them pulling their pranks in the professor's place – or so they thought. 


	5. Chapter 4: Firecrackers, Gilly-water and...

1 Chapter 4: Firecrackers, Gilly-water and a monster not yet found  
  
Harry Potter actually grinned as he saw the four boys leaving his place. Did they really believe they could fool him? Well, they didn't know him properly, they had first met him less than a week ago. But they would learn to know him, he would make sure. It still shocked him how foolish they thought him to be. Did he look that stupid? He had to look far less than he believed himself to be, though, or they wouldn't have dared.  
  
Harry carefully stepped towards his door. He had seen them enter the rooms, leave them, and he had heard some talk. They had mentioned some note so he would treat him properly and some… monster, if he recalled right. Harry was a little anxious to meet that monster, didn't suspect it would kill him, though, cause the students didn't have any reason to do so. Did they? Nah, surely not.  
  
Harry carefully entered the door. He felt a little stupid for not putting a proper locking-charm onto it, for anyone could break in – and that idea wasn't even that preposterous, as he had just seen. He'd better do that soon.  
  
He didn't sense anything unusual in the hall. No highly dangerous pranks seemed to be pulled here and he didn't suspect any spells in this room, for there were no obvious signs and he'd probably notice a harmless spell. He went on slowly wandering through the living-room, his bedroom, bathroom and the kitchen, but saw nothing unusual. This wasn't right. And hadn't they mentioned a note? And where to hell was that monster?  
  
Harry checked the rooms again but saw no note anywhere. He was to get that note, wasn't he? What sense did a note make if he didn't get it? So why didn't they put it anywhere he would see it at once? Or was he just blind? Nah, unlikely.  
  
'Fine with me, no 'Hey, let's make the evil professor's place look like hell', then.' Why not, he certainly agreed.  
  
Harry Potter made the water he had spread over his whole place vanish with a wave of his wand like he had done in the Gryffindor common-room. He could easily have dried and tidied himself that way as well, he felt like a good shower now, though. It had been an exhausting day.  
  
Harry locked the bathroom, undressed and stared at himself in the mirror for a while. He had kept his body as well as his eyes when he had changed his identity. He saw no reason to change that, for he did not think anyone would recognise him at the sight of his body.  
  
The first little shock of that that evening was when he turned on the shower. The water on his body felt so… strange. He knew that feeling, but couldn't place it.  
  
'Perhaps I'm just exhausted.' He thought, but didn't really believe in his theory. But whatever was wrong, he would solve that problem later.  
  
He changed his opinion, though, when he saw what exactly was wrong.  
  
His hands and feet were suddenly flipper-like and… he had gills.  
  
Harry knew that effect too well. This was Gilly-water. It had been invented quite a time ago by a Potions Master, it was a mix of ordinary water and Gillyweed, and he did not like it. It was not legal as well, for a person in touch with it would not be able to breathe outside water and that could be fateful… Harry did not like this.  
  
He couldn't breathe. Oh no. Bloody hell. What now? Water… he needed water!  
  
With a silence water-spell Harry Potter drowned his own bathroom. Air… finally. A narrow escape really.  
  
Suddenly there were lots of loud 'BOOMS'. Several firecrackers went off. Bloody students… this was hell. Would he really have to wait until this curse last off? Hmm…  
  
A 'Boom' hit his right leg and it started bleeding – soon the water was a little red around his leg. A new 'boom'. Damn.  
  
'I must out of here!' Harry thought hastily. But out he couldn't breathe…  
  
Another firecracker hit his arm.  
  
'Oh bloody hell…' he thought and he was right. This was hell and this was definitely bloody. Maybe he could fix it the way only he and a few could…  
  
Harry concentrated hard, what was not easy with all the 'booms' around, some of which still hit him and hurt badly.  
  
'I must use my lungs… my lungs… breathe through my lungs…'  
  
Well, it worked. Harry suddenly felt his lungs again, full of water. He made the water vanish, too lazy to even snip his fingers or something alike, it was a manor matter and he didn't need that to perform a spell.  
  
"What did you think you are doing, oh so innocent nice little children? Killing me off? You think this was a prank? This was attempted MURDER!" Henry Evans yelled to no one in particular. He at once went to his bedroom, not caring about anything but his sleep. He lay down and instantly fell asleep.  
  
  
  
"Did you do it? Did it work?" an excited student asked her personal hero – Martin Whitby – when he and his friends finally were back from 'Operation Evans'.  
  
"Well, I do hope so. It is all prepared for and I see very few ways for us to fail, Clarissa." The boy answered, grinning proudly. "I'm sure we have backed him down quite well, he will not dare bothering us now anymore."  
  
Clarissa grinned admiringly.  
  
"I only hope you didn't do whatever you did too well." An older student, he was a sixth-year, Martin was sure, said. "You did not put him in any serious danger, did you?"  
  
Ronny sighed annoyed. "Of course not, Tom, don't worry. Only a little fright. Any half-squib could handle that I'm sure..."  
  
"Well…" Tom interrupted. "I've got nothing to do with it, you know that. I will tell anyone who asks that all responsibility lies on the three of you and you will be the ones taking the consequences."  
  
"It will not come to that, Tom, I'm certain." Leon said. "Now, I'm going to bed, folks. Exhausting evening really.  
  
With a grin, Leon left for his dormitory. The other students followed his example, for it was getting really late. They were wondering when Evans would take the next shower… they hoped they could see the results the next day, damn curious how 'That Git' would act.  
  
  
  
Harry Potter woke up when the alarm bell rang. Holy shit – classes today. He only had half an hour to fix his look and get ready for breakfast, and to 'fix his look' was not only get washed, get dressed and try his best to gain control of his hair, but heal the wounds from that professional 'prank'. He still wondered what they had thought they were doing. Did they underestimate firecracker that much? They wouldn't be so stupid – would they? No clue, but he would learn to know them better by the time.  
  
Harry stumbled to the huge bookshelf in his office, which fortunately was connected to his place with a door. Useful, it was.  
  
He took a book called 'Magical solutions to all kind of injures' and opened it. It took a minute before he found a page labelled Serious scales. There was an easy looking spell to fix him properly in short time. Now he needed…  
  
"The mirror" Henry muttered, heading back to his place. The mirror was locked in a box which looked like a treasure-box. He opened it with a spell and a password. Inside were the photo-album Hagrid had given him in first year, a photo-album he had made himself - full of his friends-, his invisibility cloak, the original Marauders Map and a mirror.  
  
Harry took the mirror out of the box. It had a golden frame and you could use it as an ordinary mirror if you wanted. But only if you wanted. Harry Potter didn't need an ordinary mirror now, but he needed this one. Albus Dumbledore himself had given him the mirror as a gift at graduation and it had come in useful quite a few times.  
  
You could use the mirror to curse yourself. Harry would have no problems performing that curse in that book he was sure, but there was no way he could place it onto himself without an object like the mirror. It didn't have to be a mirror, it could have been nearly anything – there were rumours Uric the Oddball had owned a Muggle baseball-glove for that use – as long as it was enchanted with that curse.  
  
Harry held the mirror from himself with the left hand and pointed his right hand at it, slowly and quietly muttering "Tumorum incendii sanate!"  
  
He felt a little scald on his left leg heal. How very funny, he thought. Very funny indeed. Healing all those wounds one by one would be enjoyable. That spell had to be changed a bit...  
  
Harry tried to recall his Latin, what was not an easy task. 'Hmm... tumorum... tumori... tumoro...'  
  
It cost Harry about half a minute till he finally sent "Tumora incendii sanate!" towards the golden mirror with an annoyed tone in his voice. Within ten seconds all the scalds he had got the last evening were gone. He didn't even feel the pain which had bothered him since he had woken up.  
  
"And why the hell didn't you do this the first time, bloody spell? Surely you knew how I meant you to act." He muttered annoyedly under his breathe, but not too quietly for a person... a wizard... who had good ears to hear.  
  
Harry heard a snicker and turned around to see Albus Dumbledore stand in the door with an amused look on his face.  
  
"Albus..." Harry didn't really like the idea of his friend watching him trying hard to fix the results of a students... prank. If you could call it a prank. Harry certainly had never done anything quite like that...  
  
"Dear friend, what did happen to you?" Albus asked grinning. "I see you had... as good as... no problems fixing it, but this did look bad..."  
  
Hmm... just how long had Albus been watching him?  
  
"Well, Albus... I believe some of the 'nice little kids' you hold here were the cause of this..."  
  
"Really?" Albus didn't look surprised. "You surely know they didn't mean to seriously hurt you, right, Henry?" The grin on Albus' face was suddenly gone. "They're not like that, you know. They just took it too far this time."  
  
Harry sighed. "Yes, I know they didn't mean what they did, that doesn't make it any less unpleasant, though. By the way, do you know who did this?"  
  
Albus met Harry's gaze. "Do not punish them too hard, Henry, all they wanted was to fright you..."  
  
"Who did this, Albus?"  
  
"Well…" Albus Dumbledore clearly didn't like the idea of telling on his students. He thought too much of them, Harry thought.  
  
"… A first-year Gryffindor ran to Minerva's office in tears last evening, where the two of us were having some tea. The poor guy told us that his housemates were planning a horrible prank on you that night. He wanted us to look after you, Henry."  
  
"He didn't dare messing with me in other words." Harry said angrily.  
  
"Well… yes, perhaps. But he warned us after all." Albus stated.  
  
"But you didn't think warning me would be a good thing?"  
  
"Yes I did, Henry. I went straight here and was about to knock the door when I heard a yell about 'oh so innocent children trying to kill someone off'. I thought bothering you right then wouldn't be good."  
  
Harry sighed. "You were right, I wasn't in such a good mood back then. I've seen the guys who actually broke in here myself, you know. Longbottom, Whitby and Creevey – the dream-team, who else? That seventh-year… Kevin Smith… was so kind to run here in order to warn them I had fixed that pipe. I did expect more than those for behind it, though. So a couple of Gryffies…"  
  
"You did quite a good job with that pipe, you know. I heard some kids talking about how there had been four performers." Albus said, smiling.  
  
"I'm here to fight some deeply dark magic if necessary, mate. What do you expect? But thanks, anyway. So… do you want to join me on the search for other traps in here?"  
  
"Why, sure, I'd love that!" Albus Dumbledore grinned. "What do we have yet, chef?" he asked jokingly.  
  
"Well, officer… Gilly-water in the shower, about fifty well-hidden firecrackers in the bathroom… that is all, I suppose."  
  
"Oh. This will be a hard search then, I guess?"  
  
But it really wasn't hard. They both saw it the instant they entered the kitchen. A peace of parchment was lying on the table, scarlet letters blinking brightly.  
  
  
  
Do not mess with the Gryffindors,  
  
slimy Slytherin!  
  
Be sure you will regret it!  
  
  
  
This was obviously meant to be a threat, but Harry Potter could not hold back laugher. A bemused look of Albus Dumbledore made him explain.  
  
"I've been insulted quite some times in my life, Albus, and they have come up with many original names, really… but this is the first time I'm called a Slimy Slytherin. I used to say that about Malfoy, you know?"  
  
Now Albus laughed as well. "Yeah, I remember. The relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin has not really changes these days. No, not at all."  
  
"Hmm… I think a bit of rivalry can also be fun sometimes." Harry said, remembering good old days when he and his friends had had fun playing pranks on the Slytherins… and the other way around. As long as it's not too serious he didn't really see a problem.  
  
"Now, are we done? There's breakfast waiting, you know?" Albus interrupted his flashback.  
  
"Oh, sure. If there's anything else, I'm not eager to find out."  
  
But he would find out sooner or later. Harry Potter didn't think about that 'monster' the kids had mentioned anymore. He hadn't seen a hint of what or where it might be, but that didn't mean it didn't exist of course…  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I just read the third chapter once more… and found a huge mistake. A mistake in content. Now listen:  
  
I wrote Harry had fixed that pipe with his wand. That's totally wrong, you see. Harry Potter doesn't have his wand with him, okay? The Ministry took it when they threw Harry into Askaban, that horrible place. I'm sorry, please forgive me, folks. I promise I'll be more careful next time. And I didn't mention Harry's wand before last chapter, did I? Tell me if it's in Hogwarts, since it isn't supposed to be.  
  
One more thing:  
  
You said my language was too formal. Now that's a thing I had always feared and I don't think I can do anything about it, since I'm German. (Poor me.) I can try my best by reading fanfics for hours a day, but that's about all I can do.  
  
That's it, I think. Well, see you, then. 


	6. Chapter 5: About forbidden stuff

Chapter 5: About forbidden stuff  
  
Harry Potter didn't eat much that day at breakfast, still thinking about this little incident which he thought was supposed to be a students' prank. What should he do to deal with it? On the one hand he didn't want those Gryffindors to know they had succeeded in a way… which they had, Harry had to admit. They had not really threatened him like they had probably aimed to with that note, but those firecrackers had seriously hurt. But should he just ignore it? On the other hand that hadn't really only been a prank but really dangerous and they had to know that. Maybe they'd test their great abilities concerning little jokes in some other opportunity if they were not told how serious their pranks could become.  
  
"What, not eating today, Evans? Fearing it might come up again when you see your little Gryffies being beaten into the ground by us today?"  
  
Harry looked at Professor Draco Malfoy, who grinned at his own joke, which, Harry thought, had not really been that original at all. He had not seen any of the house-teams play yet and so had no clue who was how good, but he really had worse problems than Quidditch now. Again he wondered why Dumbledore had made him sit next to Malfoy at meals. Albus new how he felt about his former classmate and Harry was sure he was very well aware of what he was doing, since Albus Dumbledore always was, but he couldn't see how this could possibly do any good to anyone.  
  
Luckily Malfoy didn't know his true identity – he might 'accidentally' let something slip if he did, Harry was sure – but he had seemed to dislike Henry Evans from the very first day as a teacher there. Harry didn't know whether this feeling had come from the fact that Albus had told all the staff that he was a former Gryffindor. Harry had been positively surprised when none of the staff had said a thing about not knowing this guy from his time as student. Did they all trust Albus blindly? Only Minerva, Hermione and Albus knew the truth after all, as far as he was informed.  
  
"Not talking today either?"  
  
"W… what?" Harry stammered. "Oh, sorry, I was lost in thought. You mentioned something about Quidditch, I believe?" Harry wouldn't let Malfoy get him with a simple insult like that anymore… he would have been angry back in his childhood, he was sure.  
  
"Yeah, Evans. I told you my house would take yours down this afternoon." Malfoy sneered.  
  
"Oh, yeah, I thought it was something like that. Well, I have not seen any of them play yet and I don't think I'd really mind if the Gryffindors lost a match. It's up to the better team to win." Harry answered coolly.  
  
"And if you hadn't been new here, it would have been clear to you as well who that is, Evans."  
  
"When did Albus bring up the rule to allow teachers to play on their houses' Quidditch team, Malfoy? I know it didn't exist when I was a student here."  
  
"If you had a brain, my 'dear Professor', you would realise that Quidditch is only made for students to relax from work. Naturally teachers are not allowed on the teams." Malfoy sneered at the obvious lack of knowledge of his colleague. This git really was a complete fool.  
  
"Oh. Than why don't you show off with something you've actually done instead of seen others do? And now excuse me, please, I've got to prepare for lessons."  
  
With that, Harry Potter left the Great Hall, leaving a slightly annoyed looking Draco Malfoy behind.  
  
  
  
Martin Whitby, Leon Creevey and Ronny Longbottom, along with several other Gryffindors, were sitting in the DADA classroom, curiously waiting for their teacher to arrive, wondering how he would act. Finally, five minutes too late, 'That git' arrived.  
  
"Morning, class." Harry said casually.  
  
"Morning…" a few muttered hesitantly, but most of the class just glared at him. They did not see a point in being polite towards that git and he could not punish them for not being, now could he?  
  
"Now, before we start lesson today, I will test your knowledge on certain things."  
  
The class gulped. Evans would write a test? Now? They were used to tests – even hard tests – from McGonagall and that Malfoy-prat, but they were sure a test from Evans would not be easy. They expected it to be hell.  
  
Now Evans grinned at them. It wasn't the sort of grin Malfoy wore when he was about to take awfully lots of points off Gryffindor, but they weren't familiar enough with their new DADA teacher to know that.  
  
'Bloody hell. Now here is the revenge for last night I feared. This will certainly make us loose the house-cup.' Leon thought.  
  
Harry saw his face and laughed out loud. "No, folks, not that sort of test. What about this: I will ask you a question and if you know the answer you raise your hand. I will choose anyone of those who have their hands raised. If the answer is right, I will give you, say… two points. If the answer is wrong, I will take two off you. If nobody raises his hand after half a minute, I will pick anyone. And you will not be able to answer all questions with the right or the wrong term, I think I will want your opinion on some things. Agreed?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Is there any other way than to agree?" Ronny asked.  
  
"Well, I haven't thought about that yet… hmm… say… if you refuse to join me at this little game, I'll make sure you spend the night in the Forbidden Forest with Filch. Not a pleasant experience, I can tell you, and I know what I'm talking about. Now, how is this?"  
  
Silence again. What were they supposed to answer to that?  
  
"Fine then. My first question is… About how many known forbidden spells and potions are there?"  
  
No one made an effort to show any knowledge.  
  
"No one, really? It's your points, you know…"  
  
They still just stared at him angrily. This git would take quite a few points off, they knew it.  
  
"Come on, only ten more seconds!" Harry demanded.  
  
"And why, Professor, would we do you the favour to play that little game, like you call it, with you?" Ronny asked cheekily.  
  
The others silently agreed but didn't think it was a good idea to mess with the teacher.  
  
"Well, Mr Longbottom… I thought detention with Mr Filch and all the points off would be enough to make you answer me. Was I wrong?"  
  
Ronny didn't answer but took his gaze off Evans. After a while, he was sure, it would really be better to answer that git than to take the punishment, though that was exactly what Evans wanted them to do.  
  
"Okay, class, that was 45 seconds now, it's my turn to pick. I pick… hmm… Miss Wood. Please answer my question."  
  
"I… er… "  
  
"Guess the number if you do not know, I advice."  
  
"Er… there are the three unforgivable curses… but that can't be all. About fifty then, I guess."  
  
Martin knew that couldn't be all. There must be at least about two hundred different forbidden spells, he didn't know about the potions, but there had to be some, too.  
  
"Well… I'm really sorry, believe me, to tell you that your answer is not close enough to the right one. The current number is 597 spells and 364 potions. Two points off Gryffindor." Harry said with a huge grin.  
  
'He really only does that to annoy us' Leon thought angrily. 'Git he is!'  
  
"I'm really sorry, folks, but it would be better to help me, don't you see that? Now – my next question: Why would the Ministry forbid the magical community to use those potions and spells?"  
  
Leon raised his hands, still glaring coldly. He hoped his answer wouldn't take points off Gryffindor, but he didn't see what he could do wrong at this point.  
  
"Yes, Mr Creevey?"  
  
"I assume they do so because the spells or potions or whatever they forbid are dangerous and can do some harm."  
  
"I'll see this as a right answer, Mr Creevey. Two points to Gryffindor. So, the Ministry forbids a spell, a potion or any object, because it is considered especially dangerous and harmful. Now, are there any exceptions when people are allowed to use those forbidden whatsoever?"  
  
Several people raised their hands this time. Harry chose a girl sitting at the back. "Yes, Miss Baker?"  
  
"There are no circumstances, Professor, when anyone is allowed to use the forbidden things. There are no exceptions."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. Did they not know? Those awful aurors had used the most awful curses they could think of on him whenever they wanted, and it was not even common knowledge they were allowed to use forbidden curses? Unbelievable.  
  
But if the community did not know about the aurors'… activities… he would not be the one to change that. People soon would be wondering how he knew… how he had found out… and that would be dangerous. 'Hold it back!' Harry thought as several people raised their hands. Protest?  
  
"Yes, Mr Longbottom?"  
  
The boy was the son of a 'famous auror', as people said, so if anyone, he would know.  
  
"Laura's answer was wrong, Professor. Aurors are allowed forbidden things – only in emergencies, of course. But sometimes there are no other ways to defend themselves than to use them, sir. It's not an easy job and the Ministry must be able to count on the aurors."  
  
The boy really had a too high opinion of his father and his job, as far as Harry was concerned. What did those kids here think the aurors were doing? The great aurors, saving the world from evil – evil like him – on a daily basis, in order of the great Ministry? Harry hated both that institution and those people enjoying themselves while 'working' for it.  
  
"That is right, Mr Longbottom. The great heroic aurors are allowed those curses and potions – only under special circumstances, naturally." Harry growled.  
  
Martin wondered why this guy seemed to hate the aurors that much. They often risked their lives for the health of the population, after all, and normally people were thankful.  
  
"Two points off Gryffindor, Miss Baker." Harry said, in his normal voice. "Now I will say the name of a curse or a potion, and you will tell me why you think it is forbidden."  
  
Harry was running out of time, he had to get to the point.  
  
"First something obvious. The Imperius curse. Mr Whitby mentioned it some day, if I remember correctly, and explained its effect."  
  
A few people applied.  
  
"Second chance, Miss Wood!"  
  
"A person can control another person with that curse and can force him to do… anything."  
  
"That's right. Two points to Gryffindor. Now… Polyjuice potion!"  
  
All students but Martin Whitby, who raised his hand, looked confused. What on earth was a 'Polyjuice Potion'?  
  
"Mr Whitby!"  
  
"Now, it was forbidden five years ago because people used it to get information from the Ministry. Dark people. They changed into people working at the Ministry using that potion and so fooled them for a while." Martin informed.  
  
"Exactly. Two points to you. Now, let me see… Crucatius potion."  
  
Now no one looked like he had only the slightest idea what the Professor was talking about.  
  
"You don't know Crucatius Potion?" Harry asked.  
  
"No sir. I don't, so I don't assume anyone does." Martin Whitby stated after a while.  
  
Harry grinned. "You're a know-it-all, aren't you, Whitby?"  
  
"Huh?" Martin was totally off now. Had this teacher just… asked… if he was a know-it-all? Some Slytherins liked to say that as an insult, but a teacher? Huh???  
  
"Yes, I see you are. Not that it's a bad thing, though. A great friend of mine is such a person as well, you know. She is aware of that as everyone else is, though, and she really is a nice person to be around."  
  
Now they were only more confused. First of all: This git had friends? Then: Know-it-all's could be nice? They had only seen this word as an insult.  
  
"Granger perhaps?" Leon mouthed to his friends.  
  
"Yes, her." Harry said.  
  
Just how had he heard that now?  
  
"Now, as I was about to say before my thoughts got the better of me, the Crucatius Potion is a potion with exactly the same effect as the Crucatius Curse, and that is obviously the reason it is – and hopefully forever will be – forbidden. It's one of the meanest things you can do to a person in my opinion. You can dodge the curse, or even block it, if you're powerful and the performer is not, but you will not notice that potion in your food before it's already down your throat. That potion is, however, not punished with a life-sentence in Askaban. Do not ask me why, though, I do not understand some people's minds as well."  
  
Laura Baker applied.  
  
"Yes, Miss Baker?"  
  
"What is the effect of the Crucatius Curse, Professor?"  
  
Harry Potter looked and was startled. "You… you do not know?" he asked really quietly, but the whole class heard it. Harry was one of the few people you would listen to quietly and not interrupting without even trying. He had something that made people respect him.  
  
"Whitby, do you know? Longbottom?" he asked the two boys quietly.  
  
"My… my father told me and I told Martin and Leon, Professor." Ronny answered. "Anyway, Martin had already read about it in a book, of course, but my father explained it properly."  
  
"Anyone else who knows?" Harry asked and nobody sad a thing. "Fine then. Creevey, Longbottom, Whitby, keep it to yourselves, please."  
  
The three boys nodded.  
  
"Fine then, class. We will come to that curse later, I promise. Now, something forbidden you are familiar with… Gilly-water."  
  
The whole class was stunned. Gilly-water was forbidden by the Ministry? They hadn't known that. Gilly-water, so dangerous? Gilly-water? The stuff they had put into Evans' shower? Bloody hell.  
  
"Hey, you're running out of time. I need that answer." Harry said casually. "Three… two… one… that was it. Now I choose… Creevey!"  
  
Oh no.  
  
"I… we… we didn't know Gilly-water was… forbidden… by the Ministry, Professor. I… we…"  
  
"If you were the Minister of Magic, Creevey, would you forbid Gilly-water?"  
  
'Think! He wants to trap you… the Ministry has forbidden it, after all…' Leon thought. "Yes, Professor, I would forbid it."  
  
"You would? How very surprising. And why would you do so?"  
  
"Er…" Leon thought again. 'The Ministry has done it and I suppose they must have had good reasons' would not be the top-answer, he thought.  
  
"Think, Creevey." Harry interrupted his thoughts. "What happens if a person comes in touch with Gilly-water?"  
  
"The… the person gets some of the typical distinctive marks of a fish, sir."  
  
There the 'Sir' was again. The boy was probably frightened.  
  
"Do you by any chance know what those are, Creevey?"  
  
Leon did not, but Martin raised his hand.  
  
"Yes, Whitby!"  
  
"The person gets gills and the hands and feet become webbed. So the person can swim and breathe underwater like a fish."  
  
"Precisely, Whitby, like a fish. A fish cannot live outside water though, it cannot breathe there." Harry said, still casual.  
  
"But the person could summon water with a simple charm, Professor." Ronny stated.  
  
"And what if the person couldn't? What if the person was a Muggle, or a squib? Or not old enough to know the curse, a first-year, for example, or not even at secondary school yet? Or if the person by chance didn't have a wand at hand, because he was doing something you usually don't take you wand to, say, having a shower? What then, Longbottom?" Harry responded. He had managed to keep his voice about as it usually was, but his eyes betrayed anger.  
  
"I… I do not… know, sir." Ronny said, his face white. What had they done? It hadn't been a prank anymore, and he knew it. At the look of their faces, his two best friends knew as well.  
  
The bell rang suddenly and the students hurriedly packed their bags, happy about the opportunity to escape, half expecting Evans to stop them and expel them all or at least take thousands of points off and give a week of detention, but the teacher didn't do anything when they ran out of the room, he just stood there, staring grimly.  
  
"Good luck this afternoon." Harry Potter muttered when they had all left the class, but there was no chance for any of them to hear that anymore.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*Author's note:*  
  
You want Harry to take revenge on them for that prank? Tell you what: He will. Just wait for chapters 8 and 9, you'll see.  
  
I'm sorry there was very few actual action in this chapter, there'll be more in the next one.  
  
Thank you for reviewing, by the way. When I started this all, I promised myself never to beg for reviews, since I myself do not always review. But I must say, it is really encouraging to get reviews. I had feared you might ignore it completely, you know…  
  
I'll end this stuff out of story, you'll probably find it annoying anyway.  
  
Bye! Ottilchen 


	7. Chapter 6: Quidditch and some strange ex...

Chapter 6: Quidditch and some strange experience  
  
  
  
Harry Potter was sitting on his bright green sofa and trying to concentrate on 'Most difficult and dangerous Curses', but couldn't. He knew he would come to face Voldemort some time eventually and he had to get better at performing curses. He knew too less and he planned to get far more knowledge on the Dark Arts as well, but he really didn't feel like learning. He looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to three – at three, the Quidditch-match would start. He would really like to watch, as he loved playing himself. He didn't see why not, so he made his way down to the Quidditch-pitch. He saw Albus, Minerva and Hermione sitting in the Gryffindor tribune and made his way through a crowd of students to join them.  
  
"Hey, Har… Henry!" Hermione shouted and waved to him when she saw him.  
  
"Hi, Herm! Albus, Minerva!" Harry answered cheerfully. Finally some fun. "Is Malfoy somewhere around?"  
  
Albus grinned. "No."  
  
"Fine!" Harry answered. "And the day is saved!"  
  
"Do not cheer too early, Henry." Minerva said. "He is refereeing. Good you join us, by the way."  
  
Harry considered his answer. "Is he… unfair? Malfoy, I mean?"  
  
"No, not the slightest. There is no need to favour the Slytherins in Quidditch, though. You will see that soon." Hermione said.  
  
"Malfoy, playing fair? Sounds strange… He kindly informed at breakfast that his Slytherins would 'beat the Gryffies into the ground', you know. Are they really that bad? We seemed to be as strong as them when I was at school." Harry said.  
  
"You will see." Albus said, not wanting to disappoint Harry before the match even started.  
  
At that time, fourteen players walked through two enormous doors onto the pitch. Seven of them walked slowly and looked as if they had absolutely no fun playing. Their washed-out red Quidditch robes looked pitiable and hung down nearly to the ground.  
  
'Oh my god – if they play like they look…' Harry thought bitterly. To him, Quidditch meant fun, but those Gryffindors didn't look like they were enjoying themselves.  
  
The players in green robes though looked nothing like their opponents. Their green robes looked as if they were brand-new – probably some spell, Harry thought – and the players looked… proud. Proud to play for their team, as they were supposed to be. And their brooms…  
  
Harry took some binoculars he had brought along to have a closer look at the brooms. The brooms of the Slytherins looked great. He managed to read 'Nimbus 2050' on one of them. They looked all the same. And they looked fast…  
  
He looked at the Gryffindors' brooms. They fitted to their robes – old and pitiable. Harry got a quick glimpse at one of their brooms' names as well. The letters were fading so Harry assumed the broom must have served its owner for quite some time. It read: 'Firebolt IV'.  
  
"Wow! Those brooms there must be really fast!" Harry exclaimed. He was very fast on his Firebolt, after all, and the newer model would be even faster… hard to imagine. "They must be so fast you can't even see them anymore with those brooms they have there…"  
  
"Not like you might expect, Harry." Albus said. "You know, it is partly the owner's will that makes a broom fly fast. Sure, some brooms are better than others, but that's not all that counts. Let me say it this way: You could fly faster on your Firebolt than Hermione here on a Nimbus 2050."  
  
Hermione smiled. "Yeah, I agree. I wouldn't come very far at all before I fell down…"  
  
"That bad?" Harry laughed.  
  
"I fear so. I haven't ridden a broom in years." Hermione said.  
  
Malfoy walked to the middle of the pitch, where the two captains were standing. "I want a fair match from both of you." He said. Everyone could hear it clearly, because his voice was enchanted. Malfoy grinned. The two captains shook hands. Who were they? Harry took out his binoculars again. The Slytherin boy… he looked a lot like Marcus Flint. The boy's name was Gregor. He was a seventh-year, Harry knew. Luckily that Simon Zabini wasn't captain, having him on the team would be bad enough. Harry had noticed a rivalry between the three Gryffindor friends and Simon Zabini. Not unlike Ron, Herm, himself and that Malfoy-git with his two bodyguards. The Gryffindor captain was Ronny Longbottom. He must have his Quidditch-skills from his mother, Harry thought – Neville had been a hopeless flyer. But as soon as Malfoy had blown his whistle and the players had flown up into the air, he saw he was wrong. The boy didn't seem to have any Quidditch-skills at all, just like all the others on his team.  
  
Simon Zabini caught the Quaffle and had scored the first goal of the match within ten seconds. The Slytherins cheered. "Ten zero for – great surprise – Slytherin!" the commentator said. Harry looked at him but couldn't recall what house he was in at once.  
  
The Gryffindors were… bad. Really bad. Harry was surprised it was possible to be so slow on such good brooms. And they didn't look happy either. The seeker tried to keep out of the Slytherins' way, the beaters seemed to flee the Bludgers and the keeper hid behind one of the goalpost every time the Quaffle was near – and that was nearly always. Only the chasers – Ronny Longbottom, Leon Creevey and Martin Whitby – looked like they at least tried to win, but of course they had no chance.  
  
When Longbottom managed to score once as luck would have it, Gregor Flint, the Slytherin team-captain, called for a time-out. He looked furious.  
  
"What do you think you were doing, letting that Gryffindor-prat score? If something like that happens one more time, you're out of the team, DID YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Flint yelled so loud they could hear it up in the tribune.  
  
Then he turned to the seeker. "And you do not dare to go for the snitch till we have at least five-hundred points, okay? Do not worry if that guy who is supposed to be the Gryffindor seeker sees the snitch, I know him, he will not go for it. One good side of the Gryffindors – they know they are losers. So wait some time, even if you see it before. Okay?"  
  
The seeker nodded.  
  
"Fine then. Now let's go off again and beat the Gryffies into the ground!" Flint shouted and all Slytherins cheered.  
  
Harry watched Malfoy, who was still swooping in the air. He looked so bloody happy, so bloody pleased with himself. Harry made a mental note to change the Gryffindor Quidditch-team's attitude about the game at the next opportunity. This was just not acceptable.  
  
About two minutes after the match had continued, Harry saw it for the first time – the snitch. Thomas Weasley, the Gryffindor seeker, had seen it as well, Harry noticed, but didn't make an effort to go for it. 'Malfoy was right', Harry thought. 'But the Slytherin seeker hasn't seen it yet, I think. The score is ten to… 150. YEAH!'  
  
Harry stood up, not really aware of what he was doing, and yelled as loud as he could: "Weasley! Go for the snitch, boy!"  
  
Thomas Weasley turned around and stared at Harry in bewilderment. Did he mean it?  
  
Now Frank Pucey, the Slytherin seeker, also saw it. He was much further away than Thomas Weasley and now Thomas Weasley started flying towards it. He was really slow though, so Pucey had a chance if he was fast. He usually was. But should he do it? Flinch had told him to ignore it, even if the Gryffie saw it. But now the Gryffie was going after it and if he caught it, they would… win. Gryffindor winning a Quidditch match, hard to imagine, really. But they would win. And Flint wouldn't be pleased.  
  
So Frank Pucey went after Thomas Weasley after the snitch, but he would never catch it in time now. That Weasley boy was really slow, but really close as well. They had lost, unless…  
  
"WEASLEY!" he shouted. "Do not go any further, I'm warning you!!!"  
  
Pucey didn't see any reason for Weasley to listen to his empty threats, but obviously the boy did. He stopped in mid-air. The snitch now was about five inches from Weasley's head. Hmm…  
  
Pucey flew as far as he could towards Weasley. If only it worked!  
  
He was only five meters away now. Weasley still only stared at him, shocked. Four meters… three meters…  
  
Thomas Weasley squealed in a high-pitched voice and flew off. Pucey realised he had never seen him fly that far. He had never seen any Gryffindor fly that far, in fact. He assumed flying just wasn't in the nature of the oh so brave Gryffindors. Funny it was.  
  
Now Frank Pucey only was one meter away. Only one more meter between himself and the snitch…  
  
Pucey stretched out his hand. Only inches…  
  
And he caught it.  
  
All Slytherins cheered, the Gryffindors sighed. Gregor Flint came flying towards him. The captain was relieved the seeker hadn't stack to his orders – they would have lost the match if he had. Had Evans heard him talk to his seeker? He couldn't have heard that, no one could hear that good. Okay, he had talked a bit too loudly… perhaps even yelled… but still. But then Flint remembered Dumbledore at the feast… Maybe Dumbledore had helped that git enchant his ears? Dumbledore was a powerful man after all…  
  
No matter. They had won and 300:10 wasn't that bad as well. No, not bad after all. But he would talk to Professor Malfoy about Evans, maybe he had something at hand to stop things like that. Malfoy was a good teacher and a person you could talk to when you needed it. Malfoy always helped the Slytherins. A well placed little threat, perhaps… nobody would dare to mess with Draco Malfoy, the boy was sure.  
  
  
  
The Gryffindor Quidditch team were startled when they heard a loud knock on the door to their cabin. Who was that? They were not used to people being interested in their team – normally people only laughed at them. It really was no fun anymore. But who would come to their cabin only to laugh?  
  
It knocked again.  
  
"Er… enter!" Ronny called stupidly.  
  
Harry Potter opened the unlocked door and stepped into the room. The boys couldn't read their most hated – disliked, to be precise, but hated just sounded better – teacher's expression. Disappointment? Martin thought it looked a bit like disappointment, but why would the Slimy Slytherin be disappointed when his team won a match 300 to 10? Strange.  
  
"Now what do you want here?" Ronny snapped.  
  
"Want to make fun of us while we're in the cabin, Professor? People used to let us rest for about ten minutes till you came here, before they started telling us how great prats we are, so please let us keep what is ours, try to adapt and sod off!" Leon spat.  
  
Harry only smiled weakly though and sat down on the bank. "Wow, you're really in a mood, aren't you?" Harry said calmly. The Gryffindors only glared at him. "You know, " he continued, "that's exactly the impression you had on me down at the pitch."  
  
"And why, Professor, would we be interested in your opinion?" Martin said. "Why don't you just go and celebrate your victory over the foolish Gryffies with your Slytherin mates?"  
  
They had completely forgotten the guilty feelings they had got that morning. Evans had survived their prank after all, he was a git after all, and they were bloody angry after all.  
  
Harry turned to Thomas. "Weasley, why didn't you grab the snitch? You would have won, you know."  
  
Thomas didn't answer. Of course he knew. He looked down.  
  
"Are you afraid of Pucey, Thomas?" Harry asked softly. Thomas lowered his head. He did fear what Pucey might have done if he had caught the snitch, but why would he tell Evans? That was his problem and only his.  
  
"You are." That was a statement, not a question. "I want to talk to you this evening after supper. Meet me at my office, I'm sure you know where that is. If you do not, ask any of the staff, Mr Weasley. Now…"  
  
"And what was that for?" Martin interrupted. Even Evans could not do that.  
  
"What?" Harry Potter asked, truly not knowing what the boy was on about.  
  
"You just gave a student of yours detention for no particular reason, Professor." Leon enlightened him.  
  
"You call this detention?" Harry smiled. "I thought about a little talk, boys."  
  
"Then Thomas here can refuse to meet you, Professor, and I'm sure he wants to." Martin grinned. 'Proud to know he rules, are you, boy?' Harry thought.  
  
"Do you refuse to meet me tonight, Mr Weasley?" Harry asked, holding back a smile.  
  
"Course I do" Thomas muttered.  
  
Harry sighed. "Oh." he said casually. "In that case, Mr Weasley, I see no way to punish your impolite behaviour but to give you detention this evening after supper at my office."  
  
Seven people gasped and Harry Potter grinned. This was the first time he really enjoyed being a mean git. He wouldn't do anything to Thomas Weasley of course, but this was funny.  
  
"But…" Martin protested.  
  
"Yes, Whitby, a teacher can do lots of things like that. Yes, Creevey, without any particular reason, and Longbottom, when is your next training?" Harry said.  
  
"Why would I tell you, Professor? So you can go and tell your Slimy Slytherin mates, who'll come to ruin our day once again?" Ronny spat after a moment of silence.  
  
Harry met his gaze. "What makes you think I'd tell the Slytherins?" he asked the boy. Ronny shivered under his teacher's hard gaze.  
  
"Of course you would, you are a Slimy Slytherin after all – the most slimy ever, I might add – and you gits always stick together, don't you?" he finally spat.  
  
Harry considered his answer. "I do always try to stick to my friends, do you not?"  
  
"Of course I do."  
  
"That's a good thing, boy. But what makes you think I consider Slytherins my friends? What makes you think I was a Slytherin myself?" Harry whispered.  
  
"Y… you're not?" Martin asked.  
  
Harry looked up from Ronny to Martin. "No, I was no Slytherin."  
  
"What house were you in then?" Leon asked. The whole room was quiet.  
  
Harry deliberated. Should he answer that? "Meet me down at the pitch tomorrow afternoon at three and I will tell you I promise. I really should go now. You should go as well soon, or we'll all miss supper. Ah, and – bring your brooms tomorrow!"  
  
With that, Harry Potter left the cabin. He somehow began to like those guys and was determined to make them have more fun at the game he loved so much. He was going to talk to Albus and see what he could do and how much help he could expect.  
  
  
  
Frank Pucey made his way to the dungeons, where Professor Malfoy often spent his free time. Indeed, he heard someone cursing inside Malfoy's office when he stood near the door. "Not right now…" Malfoy moaned. Frank wondered what was wrong. He knocked.  
  
"Fuck! Who the devil is that?" he swore. "Yeah, enter!" he growled.  
  
Pucey slowly pushed the heavy door open. Malfoy seemed to be in a bad mood and Malfoy in a bad mood was not a good thing. He'd better not disturb him, but it was too late now.  
  
"I… I wanted to talk to you, sir." Frank Pucey said.  
  
"Not right now… Pucey… I'm in a... hurry. I'll… meet you later." Malfoy gasped. He gritted his teeth, as if he was in great pain, and ran out of his office, leaving an absolutely confused Frank Pucey behind.  
  
Frank had noticed the teacher clutching his left arm when he ran, but had no clue what might be wrong with him. He decided he would keep out of this – it was none of his business after all and he respected Malfoy a great deal. So he made his way back to his dorm, not telling anyone of this strange experience.  
  
If only he had.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Thanks for reviewing!!! Writing this is really fun with people like you reading it, do you know that? Pretty hard work… but still. 


	8. Chapter 7: Permission and a talk

Chapter 7: Permission and a talk  
  
Harry Potter had had what he considered a pleasant supper – Malfoy was not present. Harry didn't think this was too strange though – he probably just hung over some potion he found interesting. 'He does have some familiarity with Snape', Harry thought. Then he saw Albus stand up and make his way to the headmaster's office. Harry quickly stood up and followed.  
  
"I need to talk to you, Albus." Harry said as the two men walked through the Great Hall together.  
  
"What is it, Harry?" Albus asked.  
  
"Well… I paid the Gryffindor Quidditch team a short visit after that match. They didn't look happy. To tell the truth, they seemed to hate the game, Albus. They are supposed to love it. So I… I want to train them." Harry carefully said.  
  
Albus stopped. "You ask me for permission to train the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Henry?" he asked surprised.  
  
"I do." Harry answered shortly.  
  
"Why? You don't need it, you know. You are a teacher yourself and so you do not need my permission for simple things like that."  
  
"Yeah, I know, but I'm not sure they'll want me to train them – I really doubt that, to tell the truth – so I need your permission or I'll have to constantly keep them under Imperius for the rest of my life to make them do what I want them to and not ever tell a single soul about it."  
  
Harry grinned as Albus met his gaze.  
  
"I will not go that far, I promise." Harry said.  
  
"So you want my permission to train the Gryffindor Quidditch team against their will? I cannot do that to those kids, Harry. If they agree, fine, but I will not force them."  
  
"I only want to make them feel the fun in flying, the… freedom."  
  
Harry paused.  
  
"I do not know whether they train or not, Albus, but if they do, they do not succeed, as I saw today. So… please?" he finished.  
  
"Well… if there are any complaints you will stop training them immediately, Hen…"  
  
"Thank you, Albus!!!" Harry exclaimed rather loudly and hugged his friend. "I'll make sure you will not regret it!"  
  
He didn't care the whole Great Hall staring at him bemused as he sprinted out of it. He had stuff to do now…  
  
  
  
"Do you have any idea what this was about now?" Leon asked his friends.  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked at the three of them. "You will be the first ones to find out, I believe." He said with a grin. The boys hated the way he seemed to hear nearly everything.  
  
As Dumbledore went past, a whisper broke out at the Gryffindor table. What did make 'That git' that happy? It certainly couldn't be something good. But then, Dumbledore had obviously been the one to cause this cheerfulness. Dumbledore was a nice guy and wouldn't do anything to harm the students. But Evans certainly would. Hmm…  
  
And Martin, Leon and Ronny would be the first ones to find out what the matter was? Why was that?  
  
"I'm not sure I like this. And what do we have to do with it?" Ronny wondered aloud.  
  
"Me too. Perhaps it is something about Quidditch?" Martin said.  
  
"Why do you think so?" Leon asked surprised. Ronny didn't understand as well.  
  
"Well, we're all on the Quidditch team and Evans paid us a visit after the match, remember? And we do not have anything to do with him but in lesson. And I don't think this was about lesson." Martin explained.  
  
"Yeah, that's possible." Ronny said. "Perhaps Thomas will find out something this evening."  
  
Thomas looked at him. "I'll tell you if I see anything unusual." He said. "But then, Evans is nothing but unusual, isn't he? From what you told me, I mean."  
  
That was true. The way Evans' place looked… It was colourful. Not like you would expect any adult to decorate his place. And Evans was not any adult, but a professor, a man supposed to show the kids how to behave. Then there was this huge bookshelf, looking nothing like the rest of the place. And that box. Martin had tried a few curses on it, but still been unable to open it. This was strange, and he wondered what was in it. Something valuable perhaps? Yes, probably. It looked like a treasure-box.  
  
About ten minutes later all students had finished supper. Martin, Leon and Ronny accompanied Thomas on his way to Evans' office, for they exactly knew where it was, since they knew all too well.  
  
  
  
"P… Please have mercy, m… my Lord! I… I will not f… f… fail you again…"  
  
"CRUCIO" Voldemort screamed. Then he laughed. That cruel, evil laugh he had laughed so often in the last couple of years.  
  
Yes, it was really easy for him now. New-found powers, no more Ministry in the way, no more Harry Potter… but that problem had returned now.  
  
The Dark Lord had ordered young Malfoy to find that problem and solve it once and forever. But Malfoy had not found Harry Potter. Yes, Malfoy had failed, and now he was being punished. But Lord Voldemort had not expected anything else, that was why he was not truly disappointed, or angry. He just wanted some fun this time. He would solve that Potter problem later, and he would solve it himself. He knew he was the only one who had a chance, the only one who had the power. He was sure it would be a mistake to underestimate the Boy Who Lived. A great mistake. He did never make that great mistakes. Never. And he would not make it now.  
  
"Th… Thank you, m… my Lord." Draco Malfoy gasped, catching for breath. It had not been more than ten seconds under the curse, but it had felt like an hour.  
  
"I am not satisfied in you, Malfoy. I want you to find that Potter, he is dangerous. It does not look well, you know. Why would he break out of that place now? Why not earlier? Is there any particular reason he escaped now when he could have done earlier and spared life as a prisoner? Does he plan something? Something concerning us, Malfoy? I want you to find out!" Voldemort said dangerously calmly.  
  
"Y… Yes, my Lord, b… but it is difficult, I… I do not know w… where he is, my Lord. I do not know w… where to… look…" Malfoy stammered, taking all his bravery together. It was a stupid thing to do, he thought afterwards.  
  
"CRUCIO!" Voldemort said again.  
  
And the pain was back. Pain, indescribable pain and nothing but pain. Draco Malfoy felt the pain. His only thoughts were pain and the wish to die so it would end. It was by far the worst pain he knew. Except for those situations when more than one person did the curse. Unfortunately, the pain would multiply. Only the effect of very few curses on this world would multiply when performed by more than one wizard, and one of those very few curses was the Crucatius Curse.  
  
"And now listen, Malfoy!" he heard a yelling voice through his own incredibly loud screams. "I do not care what you have to do! Do whatever you have to, kill people, perform deep Dark Magic, I do not care, do you hear me, as long as you succeed without getting caught! UNDERSTOOD?"  
  
The burning inside abruptly stopped, but there was still enough pain left to make it very hard to stand up from the floor he had been rolling on for Draco Malfoy. He'd take some potion to stop the effects after a Crucatius Curse as soon as he was be back at Hogwarts.  
  
"Y… Yes, my Lord." He stammered in a quiet voice.  
  
"I do hope so, Malfoy, for your own benefit." Voldemort said with a cruel smile. "Now go back to Hogwarts, but do not forget your orders!"  
  
"O… Of course not, m… my Lord."  
  
"Good. I will check on you any time I want to, Malfoy, and I will want to, to make sure you will make better than last time. You may apparate now." Voldemort said and his red eyes glowed dangerously.  
  
Draco Malfoy quickly apparated into Hogsmeade – he was grateful for the opportunity to escape his Master.  
  
  
  
Harry Potter screamed and woke up, tears of pain running down his cheeks. It had been a dream… or more a vision… about Voldemort – again. And his scar hurt horribly. It was invisible now, of course, but it still existed. He still felt it, and it hurt worse than ever before.  
  
Harry didn't remember anything of that dream, he had a feeling it had been important, really important, though. Something about Voldemort, that much was sure. Ooh, this really hurt. Harry laid down on his bright green sofa and pressed a hand to his forehead. He'd go inform Albus as soon as he felt better, although he couldn't really think of something to say.  
  
'Hey Albus, I just had a really important dream about good old Voldie which I unfortunately can not recall, I thought you'd like to know we're missing some interesting information. Sorry for disturbing you.' would be the truth, didn't sound good, though.  
  
The door burst open with a loud BOOM and four students rushed into the hall.  
  
" PROFESSOR ! Where are you?" Martin Longbottom shouted.  
  
"Are you OKAY ?" Another voice. Leon Creevey, he thought.  
  
Harry was confused. What were his students doing here? It was evening, wasn't it? Suddenly he remembered. He had given Thomas Weasley 'detention'. In other words, he wanted a word but the boy had refused to spend his free time with his teacher. So Harry had had to give him detention – he had forced the boy to offer up some free time so they could have the talk he wanted.  
  
"I'm here, boys… but what do you… think you are… doing?" Harry tried to shout back, but his voice was strangely weak. And he was still clutching his invisible scar. That dream had obviously not been fun, but dreams involving the Dark Lord never were.  
  
The boys stopped abruptly. That had been Evans, hadn't it? What had he said? Was he injured? God, the way he had screamed… something terrible must have happened.  
  
"I… I think it came from the room with that shabby green sofa." Martin said quietly, Harry heard it, though. He smiled through the pain.  
  
"Yeah, right, I'm in… the room with that… shabby green sofa... Now where are… you… and what are you all… doing there? And what have you… done to my… door, by the way?" Harry said weakly.  
  
The four boys quickly found the way to Harry Potter and stormed into the room and found 'That git' lying on the shabby green sofa and clutching his forehead. He was breathing hard and looked as if in great pain.  
  
"P… Professor!" Martin exclaimed, shocked.  
  
"W… wait a mo…" the professor stammered. He slowly sat up on the sofa, shivering all over. This hurt so much… He took his hand off his forehead. It didn't reduce the pain the slightest, but was just a natural reaction. Oh, why hadn't he fainted? This was so much, he'd have loved to faint…  
  
Ronny saw tears rolling down Evans' cheeks. Did this really hurt so much? Ronny hadn't cried of pain since… he didn't exactly remember the situation, but it must have been quite a long time. But perhaps that git was just weak.  
  
Harry Potter was shaking hard. "Oh god… oh my god…" he muttered, gasping for air in a regular basis. "How much I hate this…" Evans took deep breathes to calm down. After a minute he had totally recovered. He looked up and met their confused gazes, one after another. He stopped at Ronny.  
  
"What has happened to your head?" Ronny dared to ask. Evans looked slightly afraid for a second but put on his usual face quickly. Perhaps Ronny had only imagined that expression.  
  
"Nothing concerning you, boy. Now, Mr Longbottom, what are you and your two friends doing here? My invitation was meant for Mr Weasley. Only for Mr Weasley." Harry said in his normal cold voice.  
  
"W… Well… He didn't know the way, so we…"  
  
Even before Ronny had finished his sentence, he knew what he had done wrong. He only hoped Evans wouldn't notice. But Evans did.  
  
"You knew the way here and Mr Weasley didn't? How is that?" Harry asked. What now? 'Well, we have searched for it for hours a few days ago so we would know where it is.' Would have been the truth. Not a good answer. Luckily, Leon saved Ronny.  
  
"Well, we have asked Professor McGonagall some days before." He said.  
  
"Have you? Why?"  
  
"Well… just curious, that's all." Martin said. That wasn't one of his best ideas and he knew it. 'Just curious' was what people said when they had stolen secret information and were unable to explain why they had done it. That was exactly the situation they were in now, but Evans mustn't know. Then Evans spoke.  
  
"Well, I could ask Minerva tomorrow…"  
  
'Oh no… what have I done?' Leon thought.  
  
"… but I won't do that I promise." He finished.  
  
All four boys were surprised. Evans had an opportunity to get them into trouble and didn't? It wasn't even much work for that git. So why didn't he use it?  
  
Harry Potter read the question 'why' on their faces and answered it. "Well… probably because I am a bloody nosy guy myself. I can't say I'd blame you for trying to find out where 'that git' lives." He said.  
  
Evans knew his nickname?  
  
"So, would you three please be so kind and leave Mr Weasley and me alone now? I don't like people watching me giving detention." The teacher said.  
  
That was no wonder, Leon thought. Who would like people watching him torturing other people for no particular reason? Dumbledore might find out and fire Evans. Hopefully he would someday.  
  
Ronny, Leon and Martin had to obey to a teacher, though, and so they left poor Thomas alone with that git. They only hoped Thomas would come out unharmed.  
  
***  
  
"Now, Mr Weasley, sit down, please." Harry Potter said. Thomas walked over to the sofa where Harry was sitting.  
  
"No, there." Harry said, pointing at a spot behind Thomas. Thomas turned around to see what 'That git' meant and his mouth clapped open when he saw it. There were a table and a chair standing where nothing but air had been before. Thomas decided not to ask about it, though. They were in the wizarding world after all. He didn't think it was a good idea to make him sit there, though. Table and chair were about three meters away from the sofa and they'd have to speak uncomfortably loudly.  
  
But as soon as Thomas sat on the chair, chair and table flew about ten about five inches into the air and then towards the shabby green sofa, where they landed. Thomas had never flown in a chair before, but managed to hide the surprise behind a cold glare.  
  
Harry summoned two glasses and a bottle of pumpkin juice.  
  
"Want some?" he asked casually.  
  
"No." Thomas spat.  
  
Harry smiled. "You're too stubborn, do you know that?" he said. Thomas noticed his voice was not cold as usual, but somewhat gentle. That would not make that git able to toy with him, though.  
  
"Now…" Harry continued, "… the reason I want to talk to you is your behaviour at that Quidditch match. You would have won, you know, if you had caught the snitch. And there wasn't any difficulty in it either, Thomas, you know that as well as I do. You only had to grab it, it was just inches away. Now I want you to tell me why you didn't."  
  
Thomas looked down. He just wouldn't say anything, if that worked. He hoped it worked, but doubted it. It was Evans, 'That git', after all.  
  
"Please answer me, Thomas." Harry said quietly.  
  
Thomas looked up and down again quickly.  
  
"It was because of Pucey, right? Because Pucey threatened you." The Professor said.  
  
He laid his arms onto the table and leaned forward. His face was now very close to Thomas'.  
  
Thomas still refused to answer.  
  
"I don't need you to talk to myself, boy, and the evening will be more pleasant to both of us if you speak, as well. There's nothing to be afraid of." Harry whispered, but somewhat forcefully.  
  
"I… I…" Thomas didn't know what to say.  
  
"Just tell me why you didn't just grab that little golden ball and win the match for Gryffindor."  
  
"But isn't that obvious?" Thomas exclaimed, a little angry. "When Pucey tells me not to grab it I'll be bloody stupid if I grabbed it, now wouldn't I? God knows what he would have done if I had caught it!"  
  
"Surely god knows. I believe I know as well. He would have lost the match, Thomas." Harry said casually.  
  
"What he would have done to me!" Thomas exclaimed. "Do you think he would have left me alone to celebrate victory in peace? He would have beaten me into the Hospital Wing or cursed me or something like that!"  
  
"Do you think he would have done so, Thomas? I don't. He couldn't have done anything to you without getting an incredible punishment and he wouldn't have risked it." Harry said gently. "Pucey was only bluffing."  
  
"And why couldn't he have done anything? How would the staff know if he did something to me? How could I prove it?" Thomas answered.  
  
"Someone always is near and can testify to it I think."  
  
"And if that someone is a Slytherin? And if that someone is threatened himself?"  
  
"Wanna be specially safe, huh? Can't blame you. Now, I have a suggestion. I can give you a 'res conjunctionis'. Do you know about that?"  
  
"No." Thomas simply said.  
  
"It is an enchanted object which one of us can use to call the other. Its name means something like 'Object of connection', I believe. You just have to touch that object with your wand hand and say 'coniungo'. I will know where you are then. I'll be with you as fast as I can, I promise, and that will be fast. Okay?" Harry offered.  
  
"What would that object be?" Thomas asked, not angry anymore.  
  
"Just anything you want. A sickle, some button… anything. But I'd choose something small so there won't be any problems in carrying it around. I can enchant something this evening and you meet me here tomorrow after breakfast, okay?"  
  
Thomas didn't know if he could trust the teacher. Would Harry really help him if he called him? Or was it all just a lie and these objects didn't do anything?  
  
"How do I know I can trust you?" Thomas asked.  
  
"Hmm…" Harry whispered. "I give you my word, Thomas, that I will do my best to help you if there is not any far more important thing to do at that very moment, and that would be very unlikely. My word is trustworthy, believe me."  
  
Thomas thought about his answer for a moment.  
  
"Agreed." He finally said. "I will not let those Slytherins threaten me to do anything if you prevent me from being hurt or cursed or anything when I call you."  
  
"Thank you, Thomas." Harry said earnestly.  
  
Thomas was startled. 'Thank you' ? Why 'Thank you' ? Evans must have read his expression because he answered:  
  
"I believe this will not be that easy for you. You just agreed to face your enemies instead of running from them. And with that attitude you will not only help yourself but others as well. Think about that Quidditch-match for example. The victory wouldn't have been only yours, but the whole team's. That's why I thank you."  
  
Thomas nodded and stood up.  
  
"Till tomorrow then." Harry said and led the boy to the door.  
  
Thomas Weasley left his teacher's place relieved. He had expected the evening to be far worse. And now he did not now what to think of Evans anymore. That git would help him. And there wouldn't be anything in it for the teacher, would there? No, not really. So he did this just to help him? Evans?  
  
'This is strange.' He thought as he made his way to the Gryffindor common- room. 


	9. Chapter 8: The monster and finally reven...

Chapter 8: The monster and finally revenge  
  
After his little chat with Thomas, Harry Potter went straight into his bathroom to prepare for bed. He wasn't really tired and any student would laugh if he knew his professor went to bed this early, but he wanted to seize the next day. There was stuff to do.  
  
Harry's thoughts about his schedule for next day – Research that spell for Thomas Weasley, Have a look at the prizes at that Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley, Try to arrange not too expensive but proper robes for the team at Madam Malkin's… - were interrupted when he opened the door to the bathroom. It smelled… awful… in there. Harry had completely forgotten he had not found the time to properly clean up the mess this 'prank' had caused. Not that it was much work at all, but he'd never though it was necessary right that moment. Now he did.  
  
Harry gasped in surprise as he opened the window. Something had fallen onto his head. It seemed to wound around him tightly.  
  
"Bloody hell, not again" Harry muttered. He finally got a grip at that thing. It felt rough and very alive.  
  
"Help, they're trying to kill me!" a hissing voice muttered.  
  
Harry knew that sort of hissing. It was a serpent and it seemed to fear him like he feared it. But this was easy – he could speak to it. Well, he hoped he could, since he hadn't done so in a while. But speaking to snakes was a thing one couldn't forget, right? Of course. But he needed to look at the snake to be able to talk to it.  
  
Harry let his hand slid up the animal's scaly body. He wondered if he was going the right direction when he heard:  
  
"They're getting my head!"  
  
Harry smiled. He pulled the snake forward and looked right into it's eyes.  
  
"Don't be afraid, I will not harm you." Harry hissed.  
  
"A Parselmouth!" the snake hissed back, surprised.  
  
"Yes, I am. Now would you please get off me, it isn't really comfortable." Harry answered. The snake did.  
  
"I want to talk to you, human. I never got to speak one of your kind. Humans able to speak our language are very rare." The snake hissed.  
  
"Uh… sure. But let's go somewhere else." Harry suggested and walked into his living-room. The snake followed. As Harry sat down on the sofa, the snake lay down on the floor next to it.  
  
"My name is Henry Evans." Harry started. He had deliberated weather to tell the animal his name was Harry Potter, but decided against it. It couldn't do any serious harm he was sure, but living with two different names would surely confuse him. He might let his right name slip if he got used to it again and he didn't need to take that risk. Perhaps he would tell enlighten the serpent later.  
  
Now did snakes have names? He thought 'Do you have a name?' didn't sound too well, so he just waited for the animal to answer.  
  
"My name is Sammy."  
  
'Sammy?' Harry thought. That sounded like an ordinary name. He had expected somewhat more… inhuman. There were plenty of humans called Sam. But a snake?  
  
"Why are you surprised, Henry Evans?" Sammy hissed.  
  
'How does that snake know I'm surprised?' Harry thought. He didn't often show his feelings on his face. That was what made him good at card games… 'Not now!' he thought. He didn't want any flashbacks now.  
  
"Just call me Henry, please. Well, I know some humans named Sam. I didn't think snakes had similar names to humans."  
  
"We do not always have. It was a human who gave me that name, so he gave me a human name. He was not very bright."  
  
Harry laughed out loud at that statement. It was meant as a statement, that was the funny thing. And Sammy hadn't showed any expression as he – the serpent was a he, right? – had said that. Harry wondered whether this was because Sammy was a snake or whether it was meant as some joke.  
  
"Anyway, " Sammy continued, " the man lost interest in me after a while. He had a friend who was a Parselmouth I think. That friend looked half human and half snake, I had never seen its kind before or afterwards. I talked to it once, I didn't like it. Since my owner hadn't much use to me, he just threw me away in the forest here. I can't say I liked him much."  
  
Harry was suddenly very interested in Sammy. A Parselmouth, half snake, half human? Voldemort, of course.  
  
"This friend of your former owner, had he red eyes?" Harry hissed.  
  
"Yes. Why? You aren't a friend of that creature as well, are you? Your character is very unlike his." Sammy answered.  
  
"How do you know my character? We only met five minutes ago." Harry hissed confused.  
  
"I am a snake, Henry. Most snakes living in the magical world have a special gift, a special ability. Did you not know that?" the snake hissed.  
  
"No, I did not. So your gift is knowing any person's character?" Harry asked, startled. He had never heard anyone mention special gifts a serpent had. And he was sure he wouldn't have just forgotten something like that.  
  
"Not quite, Henry. My gift are my eyes. I can see things others cannot see. I can see a short time into the future and the past, but I cannot control that. There are visions that sometimes – but not often – occur. And I can only see very few minutes in time. Then, I can see through things, when they're not too far away. And I can see a person's feelings and his character, if it is strong." Sammy hissed.  
  
"Wow." Harry breathed, to no one in particular.  
  
"What does 'wow' mean? I do not think I have heard it before." Sammy hissed.  
  
Harry grinned. "It means I'm astonished." He hissed. "I have not really talked to snakes before, unless you count a few sentences… under special circumstances. Tell me, Sammy, how did you come into my flat at all? You have not gone here on your own, have you?" he asked.  
  
"No. A few young humans caught me. I was hunting for food near the lake. They had wands and hit me with some bolts. I blacked out and woke up on top of you."  
  
"And what are you planning to do now, Sammy?" Harry asked.  
  
"I want… It is considered a great honour for a snake to belong to a wizard, even greater to a Parselmouth. So… Would you like to keep me?" Sammy asked. His eyes looked pleading, as far as eyes of a serpent could.  
  
Harry was relieved. He had planned on asking Sammy to stay but had doubted the snake would want to do so. This was just great, unless…  
  
"I must ask a friend of mine whether I may first, but I hope he allows. I would love to keep you, then. I hope you are willing to… er… adapt a bit? Stick to the rules?" Harry asked.  
  
"Of course, master." The snake hissed.  
  
Harry didn't like this – it was worse than 'sir', far worse. He didn't want a house-elf, but companion, perhaps even a friend. He wouldn't let Sammy get used to this.  
  
"Listen, Sammy." He said. „I do not want to be your master. Call me Henry, please."  
  
Sammy was pleased. He hadn't expected his new master to behave like this, but it was a good thing. Sammy was sure he liked Henry.  
  
"Yes, Henry." Sammy hissed.  
  
"Then I need to go have a talk with my friend Albus now. Want to get comfortable in my bed, Sammy?" Harry asked, cheerfully. "And I need to do something else, I just decided. That might cost some time as well, I fear. So I don't mind if you fall asleep here. I'll levitate you somewhere when you are asleep. Okay?"  
  
"Okay." Sammy hissed back. "I do need some sleep now. Albus, that friend of yours, must really be a powerful human if he rules over you. Is he?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Yes, he is. People consider him the most powerful wizard of modern time, though... let's just say I'm not sure he really is. Still, he certainly is very powerful. But he does not rule over me, he's just the one to make up the rules in this castle and he cares a great deal for my safety, since he is my friend."  
  
Sammy looked concerned. "I do not put you in danger, do I?"  
  
"I hope not." Harry said, grinning. "I just keep some secret which must not be revealed. But I don't think you will make the risks much greater than they already are. I'm going then. Good night!" Harry hissed.  
  
"Good night, Henry." Sammy answered. The snake closed his eyes.  
  
Sammy seemed satisfied and Harry certainly was happy. If only Albus agreed…  
  
  
  
Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk in his office, chatting with the Potions teacher, Professor Draco Malfoy. They had discussed that subject plenty of times, but Malfoy would not give up. There was no point in arguing with the headmaster, though.  
  
"I get complains every day, headmaster. The parents do not want their children to be together with other houses in class. People begin telling me they would enrol the students at Durmstrang if I do not instantly do something about it." Malfoy said.  
  
"And I am telling you I will not separate the Slytherins from the other houses, dear Draco. Hogwarts is one school. The houses do not do many things in common, but the few thing they share, like lessons, feasts and Quidditch, they will share in future and that will not change as long as I am headmaster here." Dumbledore answered calmly. Malfoy constantly brought this up and he constantly had to refuse. He was getting annoyed.  
  
It knocked and Albus Dumbledore was happy about the interruption.  
  
"Yes, enter!" the headmaster called, trying to sound disappointed about the sudden end of this conversation, instead of happy.  
  
Harry Potter opened the door, looking strangely cheerful. His wide grin shrank a little at the sight of Malfoy, but only a little.  
  
"Good evening! Am I interrupting something important?" Harry asked. He looked at Albus.  
  
"No, the conversation was as good as finished anyway. Take a seat, Henry." Albus answered, smiling slightly.  
  
Malfoy glared at Harry before he left the room. "G'night." He muttered.  
  
"Good night, Draco. Pleasant dreams!" Harry beamed. He was really in a good mood. Not that he had meant this, of course…  
  
Harry quickly cast a silencing spell onto the door when Malfoy had shut it.  
  
"You act like there is something… "  
  
Albus wondered if 'wrong' would fit here. Harry looked more like something was 'right'.  
  
"… unusual." He finished.  
  
"Oh yeah. You see, there was some prank we did not notice yesterday. It fell down from the ceiling of my bathroom when I opened the window so that awful smell would vanish. I wanted to ask you to allow me to keep it." Harry explained.  
  
"And that prank you want to keep is what exactly?" Albus asked. A prank to keep? That couldn't be something like firecrackers. Maybe something alive? That might mean trouble.  
  
"It's… he's really nice, we've talked a bit. He wants to stay with me as well. Er…"  
  
The prank wanted to stay? So it was alive, of course it was. And Harry had talked to it? Was is perhaps… But how? Nah, unlikely. Or was it?  
  
"It is a serpent, Albus."  
  
So it was.  
  
"You do not plan to take it out in public, do you, Henry?" Albus asked after a while. If someone figured out Harry's true identity because he was a Parselmouth… Horrible though. He was not about to risk it. No, never.  
  
"Actually, I was."  
  
"You mean it? You want to risk freedom for a snake, Henry? For a snake? This is no game, boy, this is bloody serious." Albus said earnestly.  
  
To Albus' surprise, Harry laughed.  
  
"What?" Albus asked after a moment, confused.  
  
"I've never heard you use that word before. Bloody." Harry laughed.  
  
"Well, there are a few parselmouths whose ability is unknown. Can't we pretend I'm one of those? I'd love some constant company only I can understand."  
  
"The staff might suspect something, the whole idea is dangerous, Henry."  
  
"Couldn't I take that risk?"  
  
"No, I definitely disagree, Henry. You have to promise me not to talk to that serpent in public. Don't you understand, mate? You mustn't display too much of your character, Henry, I mean it. There are people here who knew you once and must not recognise you now. Okay?" Albus asked.  
  
"Okay." Harry answered, seriously. He did see Albus' point. If he was recognised… If his secret was discovered… wow, bad prospects. He could not allow himself too much. It must not be too obvious.  
  
"You know what?" Harry said after a while. "I think I will not risk it. You're right, it's too dangerous, I do agree with you there. So I'll only talk to Sammy when we're alone somewhere. That's safer, right?  
  
"That is much safer, I'd say. But… Sammy, boy? You called that poor creature Sammy?"  
  
"I did not, Albus. Sammy had an owner before me. Some Deatheater, he said." Harry answered, grinning. "I wouldn't have called him Sammy as well."  
  
Now that was interesting. A Deatheater? That animal might actually hold some valuable information for them. Serpents were rather intelligent animals, magical serpents even more so. And a serpent with knowledge about the Deatheaters… of course Albus couldn't say how much the snake knew, but it couldn't hurt to wait and see, could it? And, Albus really thought some constant company like that would do his friend some good. There was nothing wrong with it at all, he was sure.  
  
"Fine, boy, keep that… Sammy. But do bear in mind that safety and carefulness are more important than they may seem to be to you now, Henry."  
  
"Yeah, fine, I will. Thank you, Albus." Harry said and turned to the door, ready to leave.  
  
"Now do not be that impatient, dear boy. Why must the youth always be in such a hurry? Well, I suspect that is because there is something else you need to do, instead of listening to the sermon of an old man like me, Henry?" Albus said with a grin.  
  
"Well noticed. Yeah, there is much else I have to do this evening. Mind if I leave now? Little boys like me need much sleep, a experienced educationalist like you should be aware of that." Harry smiled back.  
  
"Now go and do whatever mischief you have planned for tonight."  
  
"You've just hit the nail on the head, do you know that, Albus? Well, see you tomorrow then!" Harry said, sounding strangely excited. He left the room and shut the door behind him.  
  
Albus smiled as he heard Harry running down the stairs, taking three steps with one little jump. After all that had happened to him, he was still the swinging person he had grown to be. It was impressing.  
  
But what had he meant with his last comment? Was he up to something? Some mischief? Albus Dumbledore would eventually find out in a few hours.  
  
  
  
It took Harry Potter some self-control not to start singing with joy. This had been a cool day, and it was not even over. He always had someone to talk to now. Someone only he could talk to. Someone he could tell anything. And that someone could tell him a lot as well, he was sure. He could tell the future sometimes, see through things and tell strong emotions and traits. That would be super.  
  
And now he would do something brilliant as well. Okay – not brilliant. But certainly funny, if it went well, and he saw nothing that could cause his plan to fail. Ha… Revenge certainly was sweet, if you didn't carry it too far. And Harry wouldn't do any serious harm of course.  
  
Three people were still in the common-room when Harry arrived there. Ronny Longbottom, Leon Creevey and Martin Whitby of course. 'Minerva should check on here more often, they're supposed to be in bed.' Harry thought, but then he remembered how often he had stayed up long, together with Ron and Hermione, and always been happy not to be sent to bed by anyone. There wasn't even a rule to forbid students to be in their common-room at night. Not that he knew of at least. Albus certainly knew about that leak in the rules; he probably had his reasons for that.  
  
Harry only hoped those three there wouldn't hinder him. Then he grinned. He simply wouldn't let them.  
  
  
  
"Have you talked to Thomas after his detention with Evans?" Martin asked his two friends when the portrait-hole swung open.  
  
"W… who's there?" Leon called. No answer.  
  
"Invisible perhaps?" Ronny wondered.  
  
"Perhaps. But who? Someone with an invisibility cloak or someone rather powerful then, for it's really hard to perform a proper invisibility spell." Martin whispered.  
  
They waited a minute, but nothing more happened.  
  
"Let's just continue to talk, shall we?" Ronny suggested.  
  
"And let whoever that might be listen?" Martin said.  
  
"How long do we plan on sitting here in silence then?" Leon said. "I'll fall asleep if it goes on like that."  
  
Silence again.  
  
"Fine then, let's talk." Martin said after a while. He was getting bored as well. "So now, has anyone of you talked to Thomas yet?" He repeated his question.  
  
"No, haven't. Can he even talk yet or is he still in shock? Wonder what Evans that git did to him. Can't have been nice, can it?" Ronny said.  
  
"Probably not." Leon said. "I don't begrudge him some time to recover from it. Let's just ask him tomorrow at break…"  
  
Suddenly Leon stopped. He couldn't speak anymore. He moved his lips, but nothing came out. Leon put his hands to his throat. He screamed, but it was not heard. What was going on?  
  
'A silencing spell probably!' Martin tried to say, but he couldn't. Of course Martin had read about that charm, but he had never felt it before. He didn't feel that charm placed on him itself, but being all unable to speak was an experience itself. It was not like being hoarse at all.  
  
Ronny also tried to say something, Martin noticed. He even looked like he was yelling. But Martin didn't hear anything. Martin slammed his fist onto the table in front of him – it gave a loud bang. There was nothing wrong with his ears. So it was a silencing spell.  
  
Ronny was half furious, half afraid. How did that person dare? He was sure that invisible person was behind this. If he got his hands on that person… probably some slimy Slytherin, he suspected – a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw would never do that and a Hufflepuff was too stupid anyway… that person would get detention with Evans, he'd make sure. Detention with Evans was a good punishment for something like this. Hard, yeah, but good.  
  
On the other hand, though… was that person capable of more? Of worse? He didn't want to find out, he thought, when he saw some rope pop out of nowhere right in front of him.  
  
Ronny took a step back, terrified, but the rope won. Within ten seconds, he was tied up magically. He saw the same happen to his two best friends. Oh god, what was going on?  
  
  
  
Harry Potter was satisfied with his work. He had tied up the three students to their beds. The shackles would fall off ten minutes after all three were asleep, as would the silencing spell. Then, his spell would come into action… he grinned in anticipation of the results. Of course he had put that spell onto all of the Gryffies… he didn't know exactly who of them was behind that prank after all. And he suspected it were all – or nearly all, perhaps – of them.  
  
Harry quietly groaned when he remembered he had to enchant that object for Thomas Weasley before he went to bed. He did want to do that that day, because he did not know how long exactly it would take him to find the spell. Performing it shouldn't be that hard at all.  
  
It took Harry ten minutes of research to find the spell. Hermione would only have needed half the time, he was sure. Research just wasn't his special field. Then, Harry realised, he didn't know what Thomas wanted the object to be.  
  
'I'll asked him tomorrow, I can perform that spell then.' Harry thought.  
  
After Harry had finally prepared for bed like he had planned to do hours ago, he transfigured an apple from his kitchen into a comfortable looking blanket for Sammy. He levitated the snake onto his new bed – Sammy didn't feel anything of all that – and laid down in his own. He was happy when he heard the snake quietly hissing something about "New master" in his sleep.  
  
Harry grinned. And, of course, he was happy about the next day, which would be quite enjoyable as well, he was sure. God, he was looking forward to that…  
  
With thoughts like those, Harry Potter fell asleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note:  
  
This was kind of lame, wasn't it? Well, I think it was. A bit at least. In my opinion, the next one will be better. And more colourful, but you'll see that for yourself, I hope. Bye, then. 


	10. Chapter 9: A colourful day

Chapter 9: A colourful day  
  
  
  
Next day for breakfast Harry Potter was strangely punctual. Albus Dumbledore was surprised. The boy – Harry was 37 years old, so he was rather an old boy – was normally one of the last teachers to arrive. He even just ignored the funny stares and all those rumours people were already spreading because of the serpent that was currently lying on his shoulders, wound around his neck and what seemed to be watching the Great Hall with interest. What had been its name again? Sandy, was it? Or Sammy? Well, something like that.  
  
And Harry was smiling brightly. What was that he had planned yesterday evening? Just what was going on?  
  
"Why so cheerful, my dear friend?" Albus finally asked.  
  
"Oh, I'm just looking forward to the students to arrive." Harry said happily.  
  
"You're up early today. Why, if I may ask?" Albus said sceptically.  
  
"I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything today. Luckily I haven't."  
  
"Just what don't you want to miss, boy? Come on, what's going on here? You obviously know something I don't." Albus pushed.  
  
"Yes, obviously. But I won't tell you anything, so please let me enjoy these moments of glee, will you, Albus?"  
  
Albus did. Instead of questioning Harry, he searched the Great Hall with his eyes, looking for something that didn't fit. And he found something.  
  
"There's no single Gryffindors here yet." Albus stated. He looked around the staff table. Minerva was there, so were about half the students by now. But not a single Gryffindor.  
  
"What have you done to them, Henry?" Albus asked, false anger in his voice.  
  
Now Harry laughed out loud. The whole staff and some students sitting near stared at him – that git with that snake - again. He really acted odd today. Evans was known for a lot, but not for his humour. What was so funny?  
  
"You'll see. And soon, I hope." Harry said, still grinning widely.  
  
And they would.  
  
***  
  
+++++++++  
  
  
  
About two minutes later the large door to the Great Hall opened slightly. Harry Potter was the only one to notice, for he had been watching the door all time. Through a little slit he could see a lot of pink, some blue and even a bit of green. It had worked, he thought. It was hard not to laugh out loud, and they were not even in yet.  
  
The door opened further and the Gryffindors slowly walked into the Great Hall. First people only pointed at them and stared. What the hell was that? The Gryffindors had blue skin, pink clothes and green hair. Some had tried to hide their hair with some cloths, but the result was only less green and more pink. Most people preferred green to pink, though.  
  
It was Zabini who was the first one to laugh, the other Slytherins joined in at once. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs found this rather funny as well. Professor Draco Malfoy tried to hide the amusement behind his usual grim expression – Harry Potter had problems staying on his chair.  
  
Albus Dumbledore stared at Harry Potter, half amused, half shocked. Harry was a teacher! A teacher, doing stuff like this! Unbelievable. Funny, yeah, but unbelievable.  
  
Harry met Albus' gaze.  
  
"Succeeded!" the younger man whispered cheerfully.  
  
"You're a teacher, Henry!" Albus exclaimed.  
  
"Don't make it too obvious to those who don't know that was me, please, Albus." Harry whispered.  
  
Then the daily storm of owls flew into the Great Hall.  
  
+++++++++  
  
  
  
The Gryffindor Head-boy was a bit startled when a school-owl landed on the table in front of him. There was a note tied to its leg, his name written on it with orange ink. Who would send him a letter by school-owl? It didn't make any sense – people at school could simply give him the letter or talk to him any time. Perhaps the person wanted to stay anonymous. Who could that be and what did he want?  
  
The Head-boy took the note off the owl. It read:  
  
  
  
This was my revenge!  
  
I will take the curse off you this night. Do not try to undo it yourselves, you will not manage. I hope you will remember this the next time you plan some 'prank' on me. Wish you a nice, colourful day furthermore.  
  
Yours sincerely:  
  
The Slimy Slytherin  
  
  
  
The Head-boy stood up. He looked at Evans, noticing some green creature with him there… the snake? That snake? Their prank snake? But the teacher didn't meet his gaze. He walked over to Ronny, Leon and Martin. "What exactly did you write on that note you left in Evans' place?" he spat.  
  
"We told him a Slimy Slytherin should not mess with Gryffindors. Why?" Leon asked annoyed. The boy didn't like his new colours.  
  
"That's why!" the Head-boy half-screamed. The whole Great Hall stared at him as he crumpled up the note and threw it straight at Leon's head. Then he turned and went out of the Great Hall angrily, leaving breakfast hardly touched. What did they think they were doing? He didn't want to have anything to do with those children's stupid pranks, but now Evans had punished them all.  
  
Leon got pale when he read the note. Evans. Why hadn't he guessed? Who but an adult could have done that?  
  
"What's written there?" Martin asked.  
  
"Yeah, show us!" Ronny said.  
  
Wordlessly, Leon handed the note to his two best friends.  
  
"Evans!" Ronny spat after he had read the note. "He'll get that back!"  
  
"So we'll be all pink and blue again?" Martin said. "And don't forget the green hair… God, I feel like a Slytherin with that. No, I won't do anything to Evans. Look what he did this time! And if we do something again, it will be worse, I'm sure."  
  
"So we'll just ignore this?" Ronny asked. "But we must do something. Something!"  
  
"I agree with Martin. God knows what he'll do to us!" Leon said.  
  
"Fine then." Ronny spat.  
  
"What lesson is next?" Martin asked, trying to change the subject. Ronny didn't seem to like the idea of not taking revenge on Evans that git.  
  
"Hmm… Oh no. Double Potions!" Leon said. Malfoy was their second last favourite teacher. Bad day, it really was.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++  
  
  
  
After breakfast a blue, pink and green Thomas Weasley made his way to Evans' place. He didn't know what to think about the teacher. First he behaved like a git, then he offered to help him, now he cursed them all…  
  
"Good morning, Thomas. You look good today!" Harry said grinning as Thomas arrived.  
  
"Thanks, sir!" Thomas said sarcastically. He was surprised when Evans laughed.  
  
"Now, let's come to business. When I found that spell I realised I didn't know what you wanted the object to be. So I haven't performed it yet, but I don't think that would be a problem. So what do you want it to be?" Harry asked.  
  
"I don't know. A sickle perhaps? That's small and it won't attract any attention at all I'm sure." Thomas said, blushing slightly. He didn't want others to know he was accepting this kind of help from a teacher… especially this teacher.  
  
"Yeah, fine. Come in, I'll try right now. If it lasts too long I'll give it to you in class today. Or after classes. Okay?" Harry asked.  
  
"Sure." Thomas said. He was surprised at how friendly the teacher could be. Could. He wasn't even nervous anymore.  
  
Thomas followed Professor Evans into the living-room with that shabby sofa. He sat down on the sofa, while Evans went over to an empty wall. What was he doing?  
  
Harry muttered some words Thomas didn't understand and suddenly the wall vanished. There was a room behind it. Thomas couldn't see much of the room since it was so dark in there. There were no windows in there.  
  
"Come here." Harry said. Thomas slowly stood up and walked over to Evans.  
  
"Ignem!" Harry said and several torches on the walls. Thomas saw several large bookshelves in the room. It was nothing compared to the library of Hogwarts, but these books all seemed to belong to Evans, Thomas guessed, for the entrance to that room was in Evans' place.  
  
"Wow…" Thomas breathed. "Are these all yours?"  
  
"Yes, I think so, however I'd let Albus borrow some anytime."  
  
Harry walked a few steps forward and turned around, his green eyes staring into Thomas' blue.  
  
"You will not tell anyone of this, understand, boy? Not anyone!" Harry whispered.  
  
"Y… yes, of course, sir." Thomas stuttered, a little intimidated.  
  
Harry grinned. "I didn't mean this as a threat, boy, I just don't want people to know, that would only cause stupid questions. And don't call me 'sir', please. 'Professor' is okay, isn't it?"  
  
Thomas smiled weakly. "It is, Professor."  
  
"Fine. Let's go on then." Harry said and walked through the room. Thomas hesitantly followed, amazed. On most of the books there weren't any titles to be seen, Thomas noticed, just like in the registered section in the Hogwarts library. Thomas wondered how Evans could find any particular books he was searching for.  
  
Harry stopped in the far corner of the room. A table and two – red, not shabby green - armchairs were standing there, a book was lying on the table. There was a bookmark was in there.  
  
"Here we go." Harry said and clapped the book open where the bookmark was. "The 'res concunctionis' charm." Harry read aloud. "It doesn't look that easy to perform, but I'll see what I can do." He muttered, more to himself than to Thomas.  
  
Evans took two sickles out of a pocket of his cloak. Then laid a forefinger on each sickle. For about a minute he stood there, quietly muttering some Latin words Thomas didn't understand. It really seemed hard, for Evans' eyes were narrowed and he was all sweaty. Thomas had never sweat when a curse was hard to perform, but he knew exhaustion like this was normal when one performed some very difficult curses. Was that curse really so strong or was Evans just weak? He didn't think Evans was weak anymore. Interesting.  
  
Harry stopped after a while. He picked the sickles up from the table where they were lying. "Whoa!" the teacher exclaimed and dropped into the nearest armchair. Thomas smiled. Teachers rarely said things like that. They always seemed to be in top condition.  
  
Harry passed one sickle over to Thomas. "Have a try." He said and pocketed his own sickle.  
  
Now what had that word been? Ah, yeah. "Coniungo!" Thomas whispered. Evans' sickle flew up in the air in front of the man. Harry toughed his sickle. "Cool!" he said. Another word teachers didn't use. "This is funny!"  
  
Harry pocketed his sickle again. "You must try this, it feels strange. You stay here, I'll go somewhere... in about a minute I'll say that word and you'll go to find me, okay?"  
  
"Okay." Thomas agreed, smiling. Then he realised he was having fun in company of Evans and the smile vanished from his face. Evans had already left the room, so he didn't see.  
  
***  
  
++++++++++++++++  
  
Harry Potter had reached the door to the third floor in less time than a minute. That would have been impossible if he hadn't known that many secret passages. He grabbed his sickle and said "Coniungo!", wondering how long it would take Thomas to go there.  
  
After about five minutes he heard running footsteps and loud gasps growing louder. Soon Thomas appeared. "How did you… manage… to get here… in a minute?" The boy gasped.  
  
"That's my secret. Now, funny feeling, isn't it?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
And it had been. Thomas had grabbed his sickle as it had been flying in mid- air and then he had just known. He didn't know where this knowledge had come from, but he had known. Then he had ran there as quickly as possible.  
  
Thomas wondered why he had not met anyone on his way here. Suddenly it struck him.  
  
"Oh bloody hell" he whispered.  
  
"Something wrong?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'm supposed to be in class…"  
  
"Oh… " Harry muttered. Harry had a free period and he had all forgotten about the boy's duties. How stupid of him.  
  
"What class do you have now?" Harry asked.  
  
"Potions with Professor Malfoy." Thomas said anxiously.  
  
"Bad luck. Well, I'll come with you then. Malfoy surely would give you some punishment, would he?"  
  
"Surely…" Thomas muttered.  
  
"We won't let that happen of course, don't worry." Harry said.  
  
So Thomas Weasley and Harry Potter made their way to the dungeons. Thomas wanted to run, but Harry said that he was late anyway and that it would be better if he was calm when he arrived there. On their way to the dungeons Thomas and his teacher didn't say anything. When they arrived, Harry knocked.  
  
"Enter!" Malfoy's cold voice came from inside the room.  
  
"You go first." Harry whispered. Thomas hesitantly walked into the room.  
  
"Mr Weasley, how nice of you to honour us with your presence."  
  
The Slytherins in the room chuckled. 'He's coping his oh so very smart side- remarks from good old Snape. How very creative!" Harry thought.  
  
"Now would you please tell us what occupation was more important to you than this lesson?" Malfoy sneered.  
  
"He was with me." Harry said, stepping into the room.  
  
"What are you doing here, Evans?" Malfoy spat.  
  
"I'm surprised to see you here, too, Malfoy." Harry said, not showing any expressions. "Well, I expected you to be a little angry with Mr Weasley here, to tell the truth, so I thought I'd better accompany him here and explain his absence to you. I had important things to talk about to the boy that could not wait."  
  
"Yes, okay. Now sit, Weasley!" Malfoy spat. "Would you please let me teach this class in peace now, Professor Evans?"  
  
Harry Potter grinned. "Yeah, sure. I'm sorry I disturbed." Harry turned to the students, Malfoy couldn't see his face anymore. "Have fun with you potions, guys!" he said, grinning, and rolled his eyes. A few Gryffindors smiled – they didn't dislike the Professor that much anymore. That didn't mean they had completely forgiven him the colours he had given them at night, though.  
  
With a final "See you, then! And Gryffies, don't forget this afternoon at three!", Harry Potter left the room.  
  
***  
  
+++++++++++++  
  
"And how did you like the first day here?" Harry hissed, once again alone with Sammy in his room. He was lying in his bed listening to some quiet Blues music that didn't come from some recorder, but out of his fingers. Anyway, it was far more practical than the Muggle way, and it sounded much better as well. Wow, this song was cool…  
  
"Interesting, Henry." Sammy answered. "I must say I liked most of the humans around you, though there are some characters… well, not my taste exactly. You certainly know those as well as I do."  
  
Harry pictured what the inside of Malfoys head would look like and grinned. "Yes, I think I know what you are talking about."  
  
"That man at your left at breakfast seemed nice to me. He was wise and thought very much about many things. Not many do that. Still he was nice."  
  
"That was Albus. Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"The man that rules over you?"  
  
Harry was half hurt, half annoyed, which amused the snake.  
  
"He does not rule over me, he's just a friend!" Harry hissed.  
  
Sammy didn't want to upset his new master, who he liked a lot, so the snake chose to change the subject. Something that would please Henry…  
  
"Do you know that some students here really adore you?"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "They do?" Now this was surprising. Harry had expected them to hate him, if something. But adore? This didn't fit into the picture he had made of the kids the least.  
  
"But most hate you."  
  
There it was, he had expected this. Things like that just couldn't be true, life wasn't that fair. Life never was.  
  
"I know they do."  
  
Sammy knew he had disappointed his master again, he knew he shouldn't do that. God, what kind of snake was he, having a master like that, fine character, great power, a master every snake would dream of, and Sammy only disappointed him and made him sad. The snake suddenly felt… bad.  
  
"I'm sorry, master." Sammy hissed quietly.  
  
Harry looked up at his new companion. "You shouldn't be sorry, Sammy, you've got nothing to do with this… situation." He sighed. "It's just… well, those kids think I'm a git, they don't know me and they must not learn to know me too well, that's my problem… one of my problems at least. They don't like it much, but it's the only way for them to get taught properly, and the only way for me to keep near, in case… something happens hear and I'm needed. I guess we'll all just have to get used to it, no matter what it's like. Life isn't always funny after all. But you know what?"  
  
Harry paused and smiled. A real smile. Sammy felt his mood lighten up a lot.  
  
"I think it's slowly getting better day by day. In fact, I'm actually beginning to really enjoy it again."  
  
'That should go without saying, shouldn't it?' Sammy thought, didn't say anything, though.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Took me pretty long as well, didn't it? And it's not that good also, I think… but acceptable. There will be better ones, that's a promise. And thanks for reviewing! You're cool, do you know that? It's really encouraging. Every time my mum finds me at the computer now she asks: "Got new reviews?" and then we check on them and I have to translate it all so mum knows what you nice guys are writing… it's funny. Sorry you had to wait so long, by the way, but I'm just a bit lazy in these days. Bad habit, it is… but there are worse ones… like smoking or drinking or taking drugs… I'm glad I got away only with being lazy sometimes. Hmm… I feel like talking now, but you don't want to listen, do you? Not to this anyway. I'll just shut up now and go read something before going to bed I think. See you then.  
  
Ottilchen 


	11. Chapter 10: To Diagon Alley

Chapter 10: To Diagon Alley  
  
Having lunch in the Great Hall, Leon Creevey, Martin Whitby, Ronny Longbottom and Thomas Weasley discussed what they would do that afternoon. Should they really go and meet Evans down at the Quidditch pitch? What would he do to them?  
  
"I don't think we should meet that git this afternoon, we'd only waste valuable time on him." Ronny said.  
  
"He wanted us to bring our brooms…" Martin wondered aloud.  
  
"I agree with Ronny. Whatever he wants us to do, it'll be awful." Leon said.  
  
"What do you think, Thomas?" Ronny asked. Thomas was on the team as well after all.  
  
"I… er…" Thomas started. "Well, the time I spent with him this morning… it wasn't that bad." He said.  
  
"Not? Now that's a surprise." Leon said.  
  
"Evans was actually nice to me." Thomas continued.  
  
Ronny snorted. "Honestly? You're having us on!"  
  
"No, it was okay, really. I think it can't hurt to meet him this afternoon, to see what he's up to."  
  
"I wouldn't mind either. And I want to find out what house he was in." Martin said.  
  
"And when he treats us like he usually does?" Leon said.  
  
"Then we just leave. This is no detention or something like that, so we don't have to be there. It's voluntary, he can't make us stay." Martin said. He looked over at Ronny and Leon, who still didn't seem to like the idea much. "So?" he asked.  
  
"Hmm… if you can convince the rest of the team to come – and I won't help you with that – I'm in." Leon finally agreed.  
  
"Okay, me too." Ronny said hesitantly.  
  
"Fine." Martin said. Thomas grinned – that meeting would be alright, he was sure, the way Evans had behaved that morning.  
  
***  
  
+++++  
  
***  
  
  
  
Harry Potter was sitting on a bank in the cabin of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He stared at his Firebolt, lost in thoughts. He had got that broom in third year, when his old Nimbus 2000 had been destroyed by a lovely tree called Whomping Willow. That tree still existed and still tried to beat to mush anything it could reach. Harry wondered why Albus hadn't thrown it out long ago – it bothered everyone after all; Harry didn't know anyone who liked that plant. Or even anyone who didn't hate it. Okay, Professor Sprout perhaps…  
  
The Firebolt had been a Christmas present. He'd been so surprised and so happy when he had realised what it was. There had been no note or something, so Harry and Ron had wondered who it was from for quite a while. Of course it had been from Sirius in the end, but there had not been a way to know this that Christmas day. Yeah, from Sirius.  
  
When Harry thought about Sirius, he usually thought about the kind godfather who had been there for Harry in so many situation, especially in that hard time after Voldemort had returned at the end of his fourth year. He didn't think about Sirius as… the person he was now. It was strange to picture his godfather as that person and part of Harry still insisted that this person did not exist. At least not in shape of Sirius Black.  
  
Harry stood up and clutched his Firebolt with both his hands. Thinking about Sirius was painful and there was not even a point in it, for he could not change the past. 'So why go through this pain?' Harry thought. He walked onto the Quidditch pitch. It was five minutes to three, so he had still some time to properly test his flying skills before the Gryffies would arrive. Not that he thought flying was a thing people could ever forget, but it was fun. And there was this feeling. Not only physically, but mentally. This feeling of freedom.  
  
***  
  
++++++++++  
  
***  
  
  
  
The Gryffindor Quidditch team walked onto the Quidditch pitch. Martin and Thomas had convinced every single member of the team – and that really had been some work – to meet Evans, just to see what he wanted.  
  
"Wow!" Ronny suddenly exclaimed.  
  
The others looked up and saw what he meant. There was someone flying up there. He was so bloody fast it was impossible to make out who it was, it could have been anyone, though nobody but perhaps a professional Quidditch player could fly that well. Who was that?  
  
Then… Suddenly the person vertically raced downwards. He'd hit the ground soon, and he'd hit it hard. And he was far too fast to stop now. Oh God…  
  
"Noooo!" the team yelled in unison and ran towards the flyer as fast as they could. But there was no point in running, they would never reach that plunging person in time. And even if they did, there was no way to stop a person that fast. He would hit the ground anytime now…  
  
Suddenly, the person pulled up. It must have been less than a foot from the ground… The Gryffindors gasped as the person flew towards them, a bit slower this time. How had he just pulled out of this fall?  
  
Soon the students realised that guy flying towards them had to be a grown- up, he was too tall for a student. Some blonde grown-up…  
  
"Evans?" Martin whispered.  
  
"Looks like that." Ronny agreed.  
  
About ten seconds later, Harry Potter, the unpopular DADA teacher, climbed off his broom right in front of them.  
  
"Something wrong? I heard you yell." The teacher said, a little out of breath.  
  
"N…nothing, Professor." Martin answered. He had never expected that person to be such a good flyer.  
  
"Fine then, 'cause I need to talk to you." Harry said and sat down in the grass. The whole team stared at Thomas and Martin. Those two were the ones so determined to come here. Now Martin stared at Thomas as well. What did Evans want to talk about?  
  
Thomas took a step towards Evans and sat down in the grass as well. "Okay, let's talk." He said. Ronny was the first one to hesitantly follow his cousin, the others did as well a moment later.  
  
Harry smiled at Thomas gratefully, then looked at the others. "Is anyone planning on leaving the Quidditch team soon?" he asked.  
  
The students looked bewildered. Why did he want to know that? "Nobody?" Harry asked when no one responded. "Very well, I'll get it straight, then. Your headmaster kindly allowed me to train you. Properly."  
  
The students paled. Evans even around in their free time? Most of them already avoided walking through the corridors near his place – they all knew where that was by now – and his classroom when it was not absolutely necessary, so they wouldn't meet him.  
  
"Now don't cheer too much. It'll be okay I hope. And if you complain to Professor Dumbledore, he'll make me stop training immediately, but give me a chance, please."  
  
It was strange, hearing the word 'please' from Evans.  
  
"And why would we give you that chance?" Ronny asked.  
  
Harry said nothing for a while and the students sneered. Now that git didn't know what to say anymore, stupid man really, he was. Then, Harry began.  
  
"Because: First: You hate playing Quidditch because the way you play it it's no fun.  
  
Second: You would love to beat Slytherin in anything because of that rivalry between the two houses.  
  
Third: You dislike Malfoy because he is so unfair in lessons and you hate the way he is happy when they win a game.  
  
Fourth: You hate the way people, especially Slytherins, laugh at you each game…"  
  
"Now do you have any reasons we would want you of all people to train us without any Slytherins in it?" Ronny interrupted.  
  
"Without any Slytherins? Well…"  
  
A long silence.  
  
"Because I'm your smart, handsome DADA professor and you're all secretly in love with me?"  
  
***  
  
+++++  
  
***  
  
  
  
In the end, the Gryffindors agreed to let him train them, though not because of that last argument of his, but just to see what it was like. They could quit it any time, after all. They hadn't done anything but fly around a bit that particular afternoon yet, but they'd agreed to meet the same time next day. Evans had said they'd 'go out'. The Gryffies wondered what he'd meant by that. And did he plan on training them every day now? Every bloody day? They'd get answers to that questions later.  
  
***  
  
++++++++++  
  
***  
  
  
  
The street was not nearly as crowded as at the end of the summer holidays. 'Well, of course not.' Harry thought. 'But it still looks strange.'  
  
Harry had a look around. He saw the sign 'Diagon Alley' near the entrance to the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron, where he had apparated to from Hogsmeade. That sign still looked exactly like it had looked ten years before, the last time he had been here. Nothing there had changed much, it seemed. Harry didn't see any new shops, and if any shops he knew were missing here, he didn't notice. Same old street. Harry was glad. It didn't feel like he was a complete stranger to this place he had once been so used to, like he had feared.  
  
Harry's eyes fell onto two women, standing outside Madam Malkin's with bags in their hands, talking. He needed to go there as well, but first a visit to Gringotts was necessary. This trip would get rather expensive, he was sure.  
  
One of the women met Harry's gaze for about a second, then she looked away. Harry knew her. That red hair, those bright blue eyes… Ginny, of course. Harry had not seen Ginny Weasley… no, now it was Ginny Longbottom… since before the death of her brother and her parents, but he knew what had become of her. She had got married to Neville several years after school. He hadn't been invited to their wedding of course, since he'd been claimed a murderer and locked in Askaban. Even though Ginny, like about everybody else, believed he'd really done that – which he couldn't really blame them for, considered the absurd 'facts and proves' about 'Harry Potter the traitor' the Ministry claimed to have and the 'Daily Prophet' had made sure everybody in the wizarding world knew about – Harry still saw an old good in the red-haired woman over there. But he didn't want to meet Ginny now.  
  
'She doesn't see Harry Potter in you, your body is changed completely.' A voice in Harry's head said.  
  
'Not completely.' Harry answered.  
  
'Albus Dumbledore didn't recognise you.' The voice said again.  
  
'Only because he thought I still had been in Askaban.' Harry replied.  
  
'Nobody has recognised you so far, so why would she?'  
  
'I know there's no way around her myself, so shut up.'  
  
The voice did.  
  
Harry finally made his way to Gringotts, where he was greeted by a suspicious looking goblin. The goblin stared at Sammy, who was on Harry's shoulders as usually, in disgust. "First time here? I don't know you." was the first thing the creature said when Harry handed him the key.  
  
"My name is Henry Evans, I am a Hogwarts teacher. The headmaster arranged a vault here for me shortly before I arrived there, for I did not have one before." Harry answered, trying not to sound too nervous.  
  
The goblin eyed the key carefully for several minutes, frowning. "This key seems okay, sir. Follow me, please." He finally said. Harry was glad he didn't ask any more questions, and did not even mention the snake, though Harry was sure people did not bring animals, especially animals like Sammy, every day. He followed the goblin through the entrance of the tunnel- system. They climbed into a carriage, which started driving in an awful speed at once. Harry enjoyed it, as always.  
  
"Here we go." The goblin said after a while and the carriage stopped abruptly. He took the key and fit it into the keyhole. Harry watched the goblin turn it left once, then right, then left again. Then finally, the door opened with a loud crack.  
  
Harry saw incredibly huge piles of Galleons, many Sickles and Knuts as well. This was great and this was his, as long as the Ministry didn't know anything. And they'd never find out. He thought.  
  
Harry took many Galleons, but his vault didn't look like there was anything missing at all as he left Gringotts. There was just too much of those Galleons in his vault for him to see the difference. Harry didn't know why, but he felt strange about this. This was really much. Of course he knew he was rich, he had always been, and he had added quite a lot of money to his parents' vault after school, but he didn't really feel rich. He liked it the way he felt, though.  
  
Now, Madam Malkin's. As he walked down the street once more, Harry saw Ginny was still standing there, chatting. Fuck. He had hoped she'd be away by now. But he wouldn't run away, he wouldn't run from her, no. This was Ginny, they had been friends once. But exactly that was what was troubling Harry. What if she recognised him? His true identity? His great secret? Hopefully, she wouldn't.  
  
***  
  
"Hello." Ginny Longbottom friendly said to the stranger as the man passed. Yes, she was always friendly. She was supposed to be, for she was the wife of the great auror, Neville Longbottom. Being friendly was part of her character, though, so she didn't really mind. There were worse things in the role of a world-famous hero's wife, though. She really loved Neville, but all the publicity was terrible. She always had to watch her behaviour very carefully, since you could never know if there was a reporter around, hidden somewhere, and next day it might be on the front page of the 'Daily Prophet'…  
  
"Hello." The stranger replied, giving her a quick smile. He entered the robe shop. Ginny had a feeling she knew him from somewhere, but didn't think about that any further. She knew lots of people from somewhere, since she had seen a lot of the world at Neville's side.  
  
Another strange thing about him was the snake wound around his neck. She was sure she didn't know anybody who used to carry snakes around on his shoulders. But she knew that guy… well, maybe he was a friend of Daedalus Diggel, who was a good friend of Neville's. Daedalus was often in contact with strange people after all, and Daedalus himself was… well, not what she considered 'normal'. But he was a nice guy still, and Ginny liked him  
  
***  
  
+++++++  
  
***  
  
  
  
Harry Potter was standing at the counter in Madam Malkin's, waiting for some personnel to arrive. Harry was relieved. Ginny hadn't noticed anything. At least she hadn't done anything, and he was sure she would have reacted if she had recognised him. Probably screamed or something similar, or at least gone pale. Harry had grown pretty good at reading people's expressions over the time. Even though he hadn't been in contact with many people in Askaban, he hadn't forgotten. No, his secret was safe. Was it?  
  
Harry glanced outside through the shop window. Ginny was gone. Harry was not happy about that. Did she suspect anything? Did she know? Had she apparated straight to the Ministry now? Where had she gone?  
  
Harry was relieved once again, when he spotted her standing in front of a shop window about twenty metres away.  
  
'You've added some persecution complex to your really strange and most annoying habits since Askaban, old chap.' The voice in Harry's head said.  
  
'Yes, next to listening to some voices in my head, mate.' Harry mentally answered, annoyed.  
  
'We should go see a psychiatrist, shouldn't we?' the voice replied.  
  
The voice instantly stopped talking when a young woman appeared at the counter. "Can I help you?" she politely asked, but couldn't keep from smirking at the sight of that disgusting creature on this man's shoulders. That person really… dared to bring such a… thing… in a fashionable shop like this? But she wouldn't say anything. She had to be polite to any customer, no matter who he was and what he looked like. No, she wouldn't say anything.  
  
"Yes, please. My name is Henry Evans, I'm a teacher at Hogwarts. I am presently training the Gryffindor Quidditch team and they urgently need some new robes. Now I am here to ask you how long it would take you and how much it would cost me."  
  
'This person is a Hogwarts teacher? Hogwarts is supposed to be the best school around, and they let people like this teach there? Well, I've always known Dumbledore is crazy, he's always been, and now he's just getting too old for the job. He's lost it now.' She thought.  
  
The woman smiled, but Harry knew this smile was false. "Aah yes, Quidditch. Now, I'm afraid I would need the whole team here to properly fit those robes. Then it should not take more than about two days, might be three days as well. I get it you want proper robes of course?"  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"It might get a little expensive then. About fifteen Galleons, one pair of robes."  
  
Henry raised an eyebrow. Fifteen? Henry remembered second year, when the Weasleys had managed to get all stuff for school they needed – and that had been a lot with five children attending school – with not much more than about three Galleons. And one pair of robes, fifteen Galleons? Not that he couldn't afford this, but it wasn't what he had expected.  
  
"And if the robes weren't that… proper?" Harry finally said.  
  
The woman smiled again. "We only sell proper robes, Mr… Evans, wasn't it? Well, we could do it without all those extras Quidditch jerseys tend to have. It would be about ten Galleons then."  
  
Hmm. Harry wanted those robes to look perfect, to build up the team. But fifteen Galleons was really expensive. Ten were as well, but not that much. And Harry was sure he could fix 'all those extras Quidditch jerseys tend to have', like that woman had called it, on his own. He was no fool after all.  
  
"Agreed, then, I'll take the simple version."  
  
"Fine, then. You'll probably be able to get those robes about an hour after we have your students' measures, then." The woman said.  
  
"That's great. Is it okay if I come tomorrow afternoon? I'll bring the team then."  
  
"Yes, Professor. See you then, I guess." The woman answered. "Goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye." Harry said and left Madam Malkin's.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note:  
  
This took me pretty long again, didn't it? Then, personally I think it's not too boring this time. Thanks for reviewing, folks! You're cool! 


	12. Chapter 11: Boggarts

Chapter 11: Boggarts  
  
"Good morning, class." Harry Potter said to the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. He sounded grim. Bad mood. Class wouldn't be fun today, that much was sure. Well, it never really was.  
  
"Good morning, Professor Evans." The class answered in unison, just not as loudly as usually.  
  
The students took their seats and Harry Potter sat down on his desk, getting a few bemused glances from some students. He didn't even notice.  
  
"Does any of you know what a boggart is?" the teacher asked. Martin raised his hand, as usually. But he was not the only one. Ronny had been told that story about his father's former potions professor in his grandmother's clothes. His dad hadn't liked the situation. Ronny thought it was quite funny, though. Except perhaps for the fact that all school had heard of it – that potions professor as well, who had been even meaner afterwards.  
  
"Mr Longbottom?" Evans finally said.  
  
"A boggart is a creature which lives in the dark. No one knows what it really looks like, for it transforms into your worst fear the moment you spot it. So it is really hard to handle."  
  
"Thanks, Longbottom. This was a short, but good explanation of a boggart. Five points to Gryffindor." Evans said. The class was startled. That person gave points? And to Gryffindor? "Now, I do not think a boggart is that hard to handle. You do know it's nothing but a mean little boggart, after all. Luckily, Professor McGonagall found one in the dungeons last evening, for I was hoping to get a chance to let you actually face one, not just read about it in some book."  
  
Harry grinned, remembering Minerva's expression when she had told them there was a basilisk down in the dungeons. His grin faded, as he remembered how the story continued. He'd gone down there with Minerva, in order to help her get that creature locked into a cupboard. He hadn't known what it would transform into if it faced him back then. He hadn't known what his greatest far was. And he had wanted to find out before he'd face it in front of the class. And now he knew, and he hadn't liked it. That thing had transformed into Lord Voldemort. Minerva had screamed and ran out of the room. Harry had stood there, a bit shocked, for a moment, before he had said that simple spell to… change its shape a bit. Then he had locked it, secretly relieved. Of course it had been nothing but a boggart, but it had still looked powerful and frightening. He would avoid to meet that thing in front of his class.  
  
"Any objections?" the professor asked. A girl raised her hand.  
  
"Miss Baker?"  
  
"I… I do not want to meet my worst fear, Professor." She quietly said.  
  
"Now, that's understandable. Do you know what your worst fear would be?" Evans asked calmly.  
  
"I… no, not really." She answered.  
  
"It's time to find out, then, isn't it? And of course, there is a spell to get rid of it. I'll teach you that charm before you face the boggart. I'm sure you can handle it. In my schooldays, everybody did fine with the boggart, and we had only just started third year. I'll even have the first years try to handle it today. And if it's too hard, I'll do it for you after a while. But I'm sure that won't happen. So are you all ready to fight the evil boggart now?" Harry said, smiling.  
  
The class smiled back. Perhaps Evans really wasn't that bad at all. He had proven to be able to actually be nice in a few situations so far.  
  
***  
  
+++++  
  
***  
  
  
  
Draco Malfoy was teaching potions – first years, even worse. Those students were completely frightened of him. As well they should be, but he couldn't properly work with them yet. They just didn't dare speak. Not saying anything at all. So of course, they didn't reply if he asked questions. None of them. Draco couldn't remember being that frightened of Snape in first year. Those students really did overreact. But he was sure he'd get that fixed. A few points off here, a few points off there, and perhaps some detentions… they'd change their behaviour some time.  
  
"I want some hands up there! You really don't know that answer? Such a simple question! You can't possibly be that stupid, can you?" Draco yelled and the class shivered. Hopefully, he wouldn't take that many points off.  
  
Suddenly, it knocked. The door. Everyone had heard it, for as usual it was silent in Malfoy's class. Especially with the first years.  
  
"Enter!" Malfoy shouted, wondering who dared to disturb his class. He hoped it was a Gryffindor. It was.  
  
Harry Potter opened the door and entered the room. Malfoy could see some students standing behind him. Fifth years, it seemed. Yeah, there were Longbottom and his little gang. Fifth years Gryffindors and Slytherins.  
  
"You are disturbing a very important class, Evans. Why, if I may ask?" Malfoy said. He didn't mind the students knowing about the rivalry between two of their teachers.  
  
"I want to know where you've put the cupboard with that boggart. I thought you might know where it is, since the dungeons are yours and that boggart isn't where I put it yesterday. You wouldn't by chance have put it away?" Harry Potter said coolly.  
  
"Of course I have, Evans, for it was standing in the middle of my office." Malfoy snarled.  
  
"And where is it now?" Harry asked, obviously annoyed.  
  
"In a corner of my office, Evans. You would have seen it already if you weren't so blind. Now would you please go on with what ever pointless activity you are momentarily planning to do and leave the people on the higher level teach their class in peace?" Malfoy said.  
  
"Gratefully!" Harry spat and turned on the spot and walked away, his class following. They looked nearly as annoyed as him.  
  
"And thanks for closing the door, Evans!" Malfoy shouted after him. He was satisfied. He had actually made Evans angry. At least it looked that way. Malfoy went to the door and was in the progress of closing the door himself, when…  
  
Bang!  
  
Malfoy screamed in a mixture of pain and rage. The door had shut really well, after it had hit his head. His nose seemed to be broken.  
  
"Something wrong, Malfoy? I thought I had heard you telling me to shut that door."  
  
Evans. He sounded cheerful. Really happy.  
  
"You did that on purpose, ass." Malfoy muttered  
  
"And if I did, wouldn't I be foolish to admit it?" Harry Potter said from outside the room. "And now let's go, we don't want to disturb dear Professor Malfoy's class any longer than absolutely necessary, now do we? He is, after all, busy threatening some first-years, which is awfully hard to do and requires a good deal of concentration." he said, turning to his class.  
  
Some looked utterly shocked, others grinned wildly. Harry smiled. "I thought so." He said and casually walked away, leaving a furious Malfoy behind. The class was staring at their potions professor anxiously. Malfoy was cool, always picking on stinking Gryffindors, the Slytherins thought. Malfoy in rage was bad though, for everyone.  
  
Professor Draco Malfoy knew he had to go to that Poppy woman soon, if he didn't want his nose to end up like the one of Albus Dumbledore. And he didn't.  
  
"Class dismissed!" Malfoy growled before leaving his classroom and slamming the door shut, causing his students to flinch. After their teacher had left, the kids sighed in relief.  
  
*****  
  
+++++  
  
*****  
  
  
  
"Now that's what I'd call a Slimy Slytherin." Harry Potter muttered.  
  
"Come again, Professor?" Leon asked. Had Evans just said what he thought he had? The rest of the class looked bemused as well.  
  
Harry sighed. There was not really a reason to hide it from the kids, they'd notice it sometime, anyway. Besides, it would be fun to see their reaction.  
  
They had reached Malfoy's office, which was not far from the teacher's classroom. Harry Potter and the class stopped.  
  
"If you have not noticed, Mr Creevey… " the professor said. The class was entirely quiet, looking at him expectantly.  
  
"Professor Malfoy and I do not really get along too well. To get it straight: I cannot stand that git, and I doubt he likes me any better." he continued, a slight smile on his calm face.  
  
Some gasped, others smiled, a few even laughed out loud. They had never expected Evans of all people would say to say something like that outright… in presence of his students.  
  
"Now do not blame me for telling you, Malfoy did not really make much of an effort to hide it from you as well, now did he?" Harry asked, now grinning broadly.  
  
Ronny laughed even louder. Sometimes Evans behaved like an ass, then again sometimes he was nothing but cool. Now what was he like? Now he was really funny… and he was right about Malfoy being a git, no question. Ronny was sure everyone – at least every Gryffindor – would agree with that. Now what house had Evans been in? He had promised to tell them, but they had forgotten to ask him the day before. Had he perhaps even – as unbelievingly as it sounded – been a Gryffindor? He did want to train the Gryffindor Quidditch team after all, and that couldn't be just out of pity. And he despised Malfoy, that Slimy...  
  
Ronny stopped his thoughts as Evans unlocked the door to Malfoy's office once more. The class stepped in they looked around for some cupboard, where that boggart would be in.  
  
"Ah, there it is." Harry said. With a wave of his hand, Harry lifted the cupboard into the air. Then he left the office, the cupboard floating out behind him. He didn't seem to do any sort of spell and there was no visible connection between the teacher and the cupboard.  
  
"Now are you coming?" Harry asked, sounding a little annoyed. The class had not moved, but just stared at him. They had never seen anyone, except perhaps for Dumbledore, do that sort of stuff.  
  
"Sure thing." Martin Whitby said after a while and stepped out of the door after Evans, who smiled and gave Martin a small nod. Slowly the class followed hesitantly.  
  
That was the first time Martin had noticed Evans didn't use a wand at all. Of course, Martin had read all about wand-less magic. Only very few very advanced and powerful wizards and witched could perform it, and only the most simple spells. It was nearly impossible if the person did not constantly hold eye-contact with the object, or sometimes even person, he was cursing. And the people had to practise really long to actually manage, then it was still difficult to cast spells and curses.  
  
Evans did not look like he was concentrating at all, and he never looked at the object all their way to the classroom, which was no little distance.  
  
Martin had once tried some wand-less magic himself. It had been last year – not that long ago at all – and he had been sitting in an empty classroom for hours, trying the most simple transfiguration he could think of – a match into a needle. Naturally, Martin had never managed. He had been really frustrated and sad by the end of the day. Martin had always thought of himself of a rather good wizard, since he knew stuff from books the others had never heard about. But that was just knowledge, he had realised. There was a great difference between knowledge and ability, and one had to be very powerful to be able to perform any wand-less magic. Martin assumed no kid had ever done so.  
  
Martin smiled. He'd been really naïve last year.  
  
The class stopped. Martin, Ronny and Leon recognised the room as Evans' office. It was next to Evans' place, but they had never been in that office before. The kids wondered what it would look like.  
  
Harry opened the door and led them into the room. It was – big surprise, they thought – colourful. Not as bad as his place, but colourful still. The floor was red, the walls green. There were several bookshelves at the walls, even more than in Evans' place. This guy really did seem to read much. Then there was a huge desk with a chair there. Several books were lying on the desk, as well as loads of parchments, some written on, some clear.  
  
"Now that was stupid." Harry muttered and made all that stuff on his desk vanish with a snip. He shouldn't have let stuff like that lying around openly, and he still had not placed any proper security charms onto his place and his office.  
  
"Now, before you get your hands at that poor creature, I'll make sure you know the spell so you won't hurt it too badly while getting rid of it, okay? The word is 'Riddikulus'. Quite simple, I'm sure you won't have any problems with it. Now please, try to copy this." Harry said. He waved his hand and said "Riddikulus!". The class stared at him, some waving around with their hands stupidly.  
  
"Er… you use your wands of course." Harry said quickly. He'd have to get his wand soon, or else people might suspect anything. But then, breaking into Gringotts was certainly pretty dangerous and difficult, so if he'd ever do that to get his wand back, he'd better properly plan that little trip before. He was really acting stupid lately.  
  
The class raised their wands and waved them, calling "Riddikulus!". Harry thought it looked just fine, so he'd let them start now.  
  
"Hmm…" he said. The class stopped and looked at him.  
  
"Miss Wood… would you mind being the first one to face that boggart?" Harry Potter asked.  
  
"M… me?" the girl stuttered. She'd face that thing if it had to be, but as the first one?  
  
"Yes, you. You walk over to that cupboard and draw it open, it is not magically locked. That boggart will come out and you'll be the first one it'll face, since you are nearest. Then you think how you could… change its shape a bit… so it looks funny."  
  
Susan Wood stared at Evans strangely. How was she supposed to make her worst fear look funny?  
  
The teacher seemed to read her thoughts. "It's not as insane as it sounds, believe me. Just try to laugh at it, since laugher is truly the best weapon to use on a boggart. Do you remember the spell, Miss Wood?" he asked.  
  
"Y… yes." The girl stuttered.  
  
"Try then. And the rest of you better be prepared, you'll all come to face that thing." Harry said. The class flinched. This would be hard.  
  
Slowly, Susan Wood opened that cupboard, ready to face that boggart, though she had no idea what it would turn into. She was shocked when she saw that creature. It had a snake's body, but feathers and wings like a bird, and who legs. It was about three metres tall, so the class backed away hastily, not to get in the monster's way.  
  
"Oh no, master, it's an Occamy!" Sammy hissed from Harry's shoulder. Harry only nodded in response, since he didn't want the class to know about him being a Parseltongue. "Those are dangerous, master, I know about them, they're distantly related to us snakes…"  
  
Harry shook his head to make Sammy stop hissing in front of class. Luckily, Sammy got the point and didn't say anything anymore.  
  
Susan remembered seeing that monster once in a picture in one of her father's books. That incident had happened two years ago, but Susan remembered clearly. Of course the picture had moved, like all – or at least most of – the wizarding pictures did, and that thing had stared at her for a moment, then opened it's mouth and hissed something, revealing its sharp teeth…  
  
Her mum had ran into her dad's office immediately when she had heard her daughter scream – of course she would, you never knew in these days, her parents would say – and taken that book out of Susan's hands, quickly shutting it. Of course she had been mad, her daughter knew she was not allowed to read those books after all, but she had explained afterwards.  
  
This thing was an Occamy. Those creatures usually lived on small animals like rats and birds, but it could handle larger victims, like monkeys, as well, if it wanted to. And it would attack anyone who came too close. Later, she had read about that thing in 'Fantastic Beasts and where to find them' as well.  
  
Susan was sure this monster wouldn't have any problems attacking a human at all.  
  
The professor's voice brought Susan back to reality. "Hey, what are you waiting for? Those Occamies are known to be rather dangerous, so I'd advise you to get rid of it, Miss Wood." The teacher said.  
  
Susan stared at the monster and swallowed hard. She had to think about transforming it into something amusing, but it was getting harder to think at all as the creature flew nearer and nearer. But she had to. Hmm… perhaps this would work. Now what had that spell been? Ah, sure.  
  
"R… rid… riddiculus!" she managed to finally stutter, looking at the creature, that had now nearly reached her, in fear.  
  
The Gryffindor half of the class laughed in relief and applauded when that… Occamy, was it?… suddenly had pink ribbons… everywhere. Around its neck, its wings, its tail… just everywhere. The Occamy-boggart looked slightly confused – or about as confused as a flying snake could look – and turned to the next student.  
  
"Well done, Wood. Domy, you're next!" Harry shouted over the classes applause. "And as well as Miss Wood might have handled the boggart, it's nothing worth an extra applause, since I expect it from every single one of you!" he added.  
  
Dominic Domy, a Slytherin, faced some thing the class had not expected to see there at all… a Veela. The class – even the Slytherins – burst out laughing. This guy was afraid of a Veela! That was a thing the boy would be teased about for months onwards… A Slytherin, afraid of a Veela! That story would make history…  
  
"That's nothing to laugh about, those Veelas can really drive you insane! The guys of you might perhaps know what I'm talking about." Harry shouted in a tone that caused the whole class to flinch and be silent immediately. The man didn't seem to like people being teased at all, many thought. Or was he just favouring the Slytherins again?  
  
After some time, nearly all class had faced the boggart, and class was nearly over. The class had seen loads of horrible things that lesson, and many – especially the girls – had screamed a lot, but they had laughed as well. A transformed boggart sometimes looked so funny…  
  
"Longbottom, you are last! You put that boggart back into the cupboard when you're finished!" Harry announced.  
  
Ronny Longbottom nodded shortly, before turning his attention to the boggart. This time however, the teacher was the first one to gasp at the sight of it, and the class watched their hated DADA professor, who was staring at Ronny's boggart open-mouthed.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note:  
  
And another chapter done. Thanks for reading, folks. And: Can you guess what Ronny's boggart turned into to make Harry react like that? 


	13. Chapter 12: Getting equipped

Chapter 12: Getting equipped  
  
Hermione Granger had noticed that something was up to Harry Potter, the moment the man had sat down for lunch next to her. He looked a bit pale, and hadn't said anything all the time.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" she finally asked her friend.  
  
"Hmm. tell you later." Harry muttered.  
  
Hermione didn't argue, he probably had his reasons or just wasn't in the mood to talk. 'Fine with me.', she thought. Harry not interested in chatting, she turned to the headmaster.  
  
"Do you know where Draco is, Albus?" she asked. Not that she really cared, but she couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment.  
  
"Dunno, Hermione. Haven't seen him since breakfast." Albus answered.  
  
"Hospital Wing, I'd guess." Harry said shortly, before turning back to chewing his food in silence. This time, both Albus' and Hermione's attention was caught.  
  
"And. why would you guess so, Henry?" Albus asked sternly.  
  
Harry shrugged, grinning for the first time since lesson.  
  
"Come on, what did you do to him, mate?" Herm said, amused. "Hope it's not too bad, of course." She quickly added at the sight of Albus' expression.  
  
Harry grinned once more. "Well." he explained. "Dear Professor Malfoy asked me to kindly shut the door after I had left the room. Polite as I am, I did, of course. How could I have guessed he had gone up to do it himself in the meantime, and was now standing directly in the door frame?"  
  
"I only broke his nose, I think, nothing serious, really." Harry said, looking at Albus, who smiled slightly as well.  
  
"Well, you never did get along too well, it was only a matter of time till something like this would happen." The headmaster stated. Hermione laughed.  
  
"But." she said, ".what if he tries to get revenge somehow? He can be mean, you know."  
  
Harry grinned mischievously. "If he's sane, he won't dare." He said. Malfoy would dare, but that's later.  
  
"Now, what has been bothering you at lunch?" Hermione asked as they left the Great Hall together.  
  
"Thanks for reminding me, I had just managed to push it aside." Harry said. His usual cheerful smile, which he had regained talking about that Malfoy- accident, faded.  
  
"Sorry." Hermione mumbled. "S' okay, I need to talk about it anyway. Well. I just had the fourth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins deal with a boggart. It went well, of course, but Ronny Longbottom's boggart."  
  
Hermione grinned. "The powerful, evil DADA teacher, frightened by one of his students' boggarts. Cool picture." she said after a while of silence.  
  
She stopped when she saw his expression. "What was that boggart, Henry?" she quietly asked.  
  
"It was. me. Not the me I presently see in the mirror every morning, but the. other me. The 'evil murderer to be put into Askaban' me." He whispered. "The me that every wizard in the world hates and fears, that the Ministry of Magic has been chasing for months, without success."  
  
"You are no murderer, Henry, and you shouldn't give too much for what people are saying when you know they are all wrong. You are a great person, and you are my best friend. You are no murderer, and you know it." She answered, quietly, so he could barely hear it, but forcefully. "There's no point in disagreeing with me here, since we both know the truth. Got it?"  
  
With that, she laid her arm around his shoulders. He smiled, surprised, but then returned the gesture. 'It's great to have a friend like Herm when you need one.', he thought.  
  
Both teachers ignored the odd looks their students gave them.  
  
"Wonder why Evans fears that Potter so much. Not that I didn't enjoy seeing him in such a situation, though." Leon said, grinning, as he walked down to the Quidditch pitch together that afternoon. "I've always known he's a covert, that's why he treats us that bad."  
  
"I don't know if he's a covert, but he certainly is smart. And powerful. Remember how quickly he fixed that pipe we enchanted? And have you noticed just how easily he performs wand-less magic?" Martin said.  
  
"Yeah, maybe, but he seems even more afraid of that fugitive murderer than I am, and it's my boggart after all. I say he's a covert. Let's agree on a really smart and powerful covert, shall we?" Ronny exclaimed.  
  
"And he's a mean git, don't forget that." Leon said. "I think we should consider that in our perfect description."  
  
"Nah. he's not that mean anymore, I think. Thomas said he was okay at that detention he had." Martin disagreed.  
  
"Remember he's going to do the Unforgivables in lesson? I've written to dad about it, he said he agreed no kid should have to do that stuff in school. It's really hard, and it can be dangerous, he says. And he must know, he's an auror, after all. The aurors are trained years to be able to fight those dark curses, it's their job. But we're only kids! Why would Evans do that to us but because he hates us?" Ronny declared.  
  
The others nodded in agreement. Ronny had a point.  
  
"Because it's my job to make sure you are prepared in any way this education can prepare you. And because Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of this school, told me to and explained, why. Not that I don't see his point, of course." Came a voice from behind them.  
  
They slowly turned around. Evans. Damn.  
  
"P. Professor." Martin stammered. It was one of the rare times he really had no idea what to say. "Professor Evans, we. we didn't notice you there." Now that hadn't been the right thing to say.  
  
"Of course you didn't, or you wouldn't have acted that. smart, I'd assume. Now. ten points off each of you for speaking ill of a teacher. You'd better be more careful next time, wouldn't you? Or don't you care at all who the house cup goes to?" Harry snarled.  
  
"We do." Leon answered quietly. All three stared at the ground. Thirty points off. They hoped the others wouldn't find out under which circumstances they had lost the points, they'd be angry enough with them anyway. 'Damn you, Evans!' Ronny thought. 'It was pure carelessness, though.'  
  
"That's a good thing. Let's go on then, boys. Are the others still to come or already there?" Evans asked. The boys were surprised he didn't sound that angry anymore.  
  
"I didn't see anyone of the team in the common-room when we left, so they should be there, I think." Martin said a bit nervously, as they were walking down to the team's cabin.  
  
"That's good. Now relax, please, I won't bite, and I want this to be a pleasant afternoon. For all of us."  
  
That git wanted them to have a pleasant afternoon? Strange day.  
  
*** Ten minutes later the Gryffindor Quidditch team was standing at the fireplace in their new trainer's living-room. Some stared around speechlessly at the orange walls, the green sofa and everything else. This entire room was so unlike its owner.  
  
"I assume you all know the use of floo-powder?" Harry asked. The team nodded. "Fine. I want you to go to Madam Malkin's robe shop in Diagon Alley, then, okay?"  
  
The team nodded hesitantly. "Why, Professor?" Ronny asked. His teacher only grinned.  
  
"We're expected there." He said.  
  
*** The young woman looked up from her counter when seven children, one after another, stepped out of the fireplace. Soon some blonde man followed. That Hogwarts professor, she remembered. So that had to be the Quidditch team, then. The children didn't look like the typical Quidditch-players. 'No wonder they need someone to train them' she thought.  
  
"Hullo. I came to give you the measures of my Quidditch team here."  
  
"Aah yes, sir. You kids get over there, please, a colleague of mine will come over to work on you a little."  
  
Half an hour later, the measures were all taken. Finally, Harry thought. He wondered what had taken those robe shop people so long, since the magical tape measure worked on its own. Now he'd have to wait about an hour till they were ready to be picked up. No, that was wrong. He wouldn't have to just sit there and wait. There were better things to do.  
  
"Come on, kids, we're leaving!" he announced. The children stood up from their seats and walked towards the fireplace.  
  
"No, we're not done yet. We take the door this time." He said and walked out onto the street. The students followed, annoyed. Did he want to ruin their whole afternoon? Would they have to hang around in another such boring shop for hours now? This was so bloody boring.  
  
To their surprise, Harry walked straight towards the Quidditch supply shop. They had everything there, but it was bloody expensive. Most of them spent much time in front of the shop window on a regular basis every holiday, but only few had been inside very often. The owner of this place insisted that people who weren't planning on buying anything had to stay outside. The children despised the man for that.  
  
A bell rang as Harry Potter opened the door and a man quickly came to greet the customer. He failed to hide a grimace at the sight of the children.  
  
"Can I help you, sir? My name is Mr Steven Stewards, I am a shop assistant here." He politely asked, turning to the teacher.  
  
"Actually, you can." Harry answered. He decided he didn't like this Stewards guy at all. "I am Professor Henry Evans and this is the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I came here to equip them properly." He said.  
  
"The Gryffindor Quidditch team, you say? Now I must say that's a surprise."  
  
"Why if I may ask?" Harry said. He had to concentrate to keep from getting really angry at this 'polite' man.  
  
"Well, they are famous for their. lack of skill, you could say. Now aren't they? That's not a bad thing, of course. They are nothing but children, after all. You cannot expect a grown person's ability from them." The man smirked.  
  
The kids were hurt. Yeah, only children, nobody could expect them to play Quidditch properly. Did their age make them appear worthless? This man was an ass.  
  
"Of course, nothing but children." Harry spat. Both the students and that man in the shop backed away instantly. None of them had ever heard the professor that. angry, it seemed.  
  
Harry Potter visibly tried to calm down.  
  
"Now, Mr Stewards, all we came for was some brooms and perhaps two or three sets of Quidditch balls, if you don't mind. I have got better things to do than to waste my time with some gossip. Could we deal my business now, please?" the teacher said, sounding dangerously calm.  
  
"Y. Yes, of course, sir. I'm sorry. Would you come with me, then, please?" that man said.  
  
"We will. Come along, kids." Harry ordered and followed that impolite git into another room. There were several different brooms behind a well locked showcase. They looked great. Most were called Cleansweep, Firebolt or Nimbus with some number behind, but there were also some types Harry didn't recognise from his time before Askaban. His eyes widened when they crossed a list with the prices, but he managed to change his expression back to normal quickly. He was good at that.  
  
"Longbottom. which of those is the best broom for the team in your opinion? My momentary knowledge of brooms is not really up to date." Harry said, turning to Ronny, who seemed to be leader of the team in some way.  
  
"The best broom, sir?" Ronny asked uncertainly. "You should know most of them are really expensive, and I'm not sure Professor Dumbledore would be .happy to .finance it, sir."  
  
To his surprise, 'That git' smiled slightly. "Now, Mr Longbottom. I have noticed they are really expensive, I will resist the urge to take five points off you for each 'sir', dear old Albus has nothing to do with this and when I say 'The best broom, Longbottom!', I usually mean the best broom." He said. "Longbottom."  
  
First the boy looked a bit startled. "Hmm." Ronny finally said, smiling himself. He wondered who, how and why for a moment, but it didn't really matter now, did it? Some person other than Albus Dumbledore would get them a couple of those very good brooms. And he would choose which ones. Wow!  
  
"I'd say. a Nimbus 2050, that's the newest Nimbus model. Or the newest Firebolt, the Firebolt X. It's about the same, I think. Similar in speed and steering, I believe." Ronny said. Other kids nodded in agreement.  
  
"Where is the difference, Mr Stewards?" Harry asked, turning to that man.  
  
"Well, the newest Nimbus is a bit faster than the Firebolt, but you'll only see the difference if a professional flies about twenty seconds full speed, which no kid could possibly ever manage. But the Firebolt is easier steered, people say. Personally, I do not see any difference for children." That man said.  
  
Harry looked at the price list. The Firebolt cost 684 Galleons, the Nimbus 593. 'Strange prices indeed.' Harry thought. And not cheap.  
  
"Hmm. there's no way I could test them out, I guess?" Harry asked that man.  
  
"No, sir, you cannot test a broom unless you buy it." That man answered.  
  
"That's a bad thing. Well, let me think."  
  
Harry turned to his team.  
  
"I fly a Firebolt. It's rather old, but still in good form. That Firebolt has never disappointed me. Then, the Slimy Slytherins own Nimbus. That's another reason for us to buy those Firebolts, isn't it?"  
  
The kids gasped at the mention of 'Slimy Slytherins', but Harry didn't mind the interruption much.  
  
"I owned a Nimbus once too, you know, till is was destroyed by the Whomping Willow. A pity, really. I had to use a school broom till I got my Firebolt. Horrible memory." Harry said, grinning. "That Nimbus was really cool, but nothing compared to the Firebolt. That changed, I see. Today they're almost the same. And look at the prices."  
  
The kids did and moaned. That was really much money. Who on earth was crazy enough to get them such a good broom, let alone a Firebolt?  
  
"But the other way around, they're both that expensive the little difference in price doesn't really matter anymore, does it" Martin stated.  
  
"That's a lot of money, Whitby." Harry said. "What do you others think?"  
  
"Well. if a person is crazy enough to finance us of all people such a broom, it can't take much to make that person finance us a Firebolt, can it? Can't you ask that person, Professor?" Ronny suggested.  
  
"No, I can't." Harry said. The students looked at him questioningly. Now that git wouldn't even. ask that person. if they were allowed to get those Firebolts. They'd do anything for it, and Evans himself had said he'd prefer them to have the Firebolt.  
  
"Why won't you even ask? It can't hurt to try!" Leon complained.  
  
"Well, that's simple." Their teacher answered. "As far as I'm concerned, talking to oneself is an annoying habit, that's why I won't ask. You do, if you want that Firebolt."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Y. you. you of all people. have agreed to finance. us. such a broom?" Martin stuttered.  
  
Harry grinned. "Yeah, I'm that crazy person." He said. "Do you have a problem with that?"  
  
A murmur of "Not at all." and "Of course not, Professor." broke out.  
  
"Good." Harry said and waited. The students did the same. So they stood there for a while, nobody saying a thing. That man - Mr Stewards - was confused. This were about the strangest customers he could remember.  
  
"Well, as the official captain of this team, I guess." Ronny finally spoke. Everyone, including his teacher, stared at him. "Professor Evans. would you finance us each a Firebolt. for the sake of the team. since you yourself say it's the better broom. please?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Well said, Longbottom. Hmm. since it's my money, I shall take some time to think about it." He said.  
  
The team looked disappointed. This clearly meant as much as "Of course I won't buy you Gryffindor brats Firebolts, I'm not totally off, you know." "Thank you, sir!" Ronny spat. Of course it was a good thing to finance it, and Ronny was really thankful, but this had been nothing but mean now. First make them hopeful, then he had. practically pleaded. for those brooms, which had cost him quite an effort. and now Evans would 'Think about it'.  
  
"Control your tone, Longbottom. Do you really blame me for thinking such an. expensive decision. over? It is much money, you must admit. Besides, that Nimbus is a great broom as well." Harry answered calmly.  
  
Ronny knew it would cost Evans quite some money, but still. that git shouldn't have made them hopeful, then.  
  
Harry looked at his watch. They had to be back at Madam Malkin's soon to pick up the robes. But he was not ready here, yet.  
  
"Whitby, do you think you'd manage to pick up the robes and go back to Hogwarts by floo on your own? I'm not done yet." He asked.  
  
"Sure thing, Professor." The boy answered.  
  
"Can I trust you with the money?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes, sir." Martin said.  
  
Harry grinned back. "That's good, Whitby. But I won't, of course. Hmm. it's ten Galleons each. Seven on the team. plus I had one done for myself, since I'm the coach. That's eighty Galleons. I'll give you those eighty, Whitby, no more and no less. You'll spend them in the robe shop, nowhere else, and if you lose any money, you'll take the consequences. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast then, okay, kids? Whitby, you can keep the robes till next training."  
  
"Yes, Professor." Martin said. He felt a bit proud when Evans gave him the money. Martin walked out of the shop with eighty Galleons and some floo powder. The rest of the team followed.  
  
When the door to the shop was shut safely, Harry turned to that man. Mr Stewards. again, who was busy admiring his own brooms.  
  
"Mr Stewards?"  
  
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, sir, I was just."  
  
"I want to buy seven Firebolt X, eight broomstick servicing kids. and three sets of Quidditch balls, I think. Yes, that would be it. Mind if I come back soon, I don't have enough money with me to pay it all. didn't expect it to be that expensive, really. so I'm just paying a visit to Gringotts."  
  
"I don't mind at all, sir. In the meantime I'll go fetch." Mr Stewards began, but Harry Potter was already out the door.  
  
". the stuff you ordered, sir." The shop assistant finished. 


	14. Chapter 13: Attempted theft and robes

Chapter 13: Attempted theft and robes  
  
It was a sunny morning, and it seemed to be the perfect day to go outside. Luckily, it was Sunday. Sundays were free. A free, sunny Sunday.  
  
It was a strange feeling, but Leon Creevey was somehow in the right mood to play Quidditch. He had never been before, or at least couldn't remember something like that. 'Probably because of Evans' shopping trip yesterday.' He thought. Spending hours in a shop where everything is about Quidditch would easily bring you in the mood, he guessed.  
  
"Wonder what Evans finally got us." Leon thought aloud.  
  
"The Nimbus probably, it's cheaper." Ronny said.  
  
"It's still a great broom, though. One of the best there are, mind you. And it cost Evans a fortune. I think we should be thankful, in anything." Martin stated.  
  
Unnoticed by his students, at the staff table, Harry Potter grinned. Finally something but insults. He was glad he was no longer only 'That git', but also the guy who got his Quidditch team those great brooms. At least he hoped he was. Yet, he didn't want to buy his reputation, he wanted to earn it.  
  
Finally, the owls flew in. Harry grinned. He looked forward to seeing their faces.  
  
Ronny's mouth fell open. Seven packages were being brought in, towards the Gryffindor table, it seemed. They were just huge. "The brooms?" he wondered aloud.  
  
"Probably." Leon said. Their thoughts were confirmed when the owls dropped one of those packages in front of each member of the Quidditch team.  
  
Everyone in the Great Hall stared at him. That was the Gryffindor Quidditch team, right? Why did those losers get such huge packages? What was in there? Who would get those useless prats whatever that was in there?  
  
Leon was about to tear open his package when he felt his head forced to jerk aside. It felt strange. What was that? His gaze met his professor's, who was staring at him.  
  
"Later, kids!" Evans mouthed. Leon was surprised he clearly knew what Evans had meant, though it had been impossible to hear anything. He delivered the message to his classmates and the Gryffindor Quidditch team were the first to leave the Great Hall after a hurried breakfast. And it was Sunday. They'd have all time of the world to test those new brooms.  
  
They were nearly up to Gryffindor tower when they heard some people following. They turned around and faced a dozen of nasty Slytherins, sneering at them.  
  
"Ooh, the dear Gryffies got some presents from Mummy and Daddy at home?" some boy jeered.  
  
"Strange it's the Quidditch team, isn't it?" Zabini said. God, they couldn't stand that guy. "Now I'd say. little Longbottom here went to his daddy and wailed that they couldn't stand a chance at Quidditch because they were all such losers. and because his daddy is such a great and famous hero he got his little baby-boy and the whole team some second-hand brooms so the poor children won't feel that bad any longer. Correct, Ronniekins?"  
  
Ronny was red with fury. This guy dared to insult him, his father and the whole Quidditch team! He'd get back for that.  
  
"In fact, Simon, mate:" Martin said sarcastically, while helping Leon to hold back Ronny, who was about to rush at Zabini, "These packets contain seven brand-new Nimbus 2050, no more or less. And would you excuse us now, please, we were just about to open them."  
  
Martin knew this had been a mistake, when he found the team surrounded by Slytherins about five seconds later. He shouldn't have said that. How stupid.  
  
"We could use reserve brooms as well, couldn't we?" Zabini asked his house mates, grinning. They nodded and Zabini snatched the packed from Thomas.  
  
"Looks indeed very interesting."  
  
"Give that back, git!" Thomas yelled. The Slytherins only laughed.  
  
"And why would I do that?"  
  
"Because of. this!" Thomas said, took a sickle out of his pocket and held it up to the Slytherins. He grinned. They weren't defenceless at all.  
  
The Slytherins roared with laugher. "Because you own a sickle, Weasel? How very impressive!"  
  
"This is not just any sickle, fool. It's enchanted." Thomas sneered. "And I'll use it if you don't give us back what's ours and sod off immediately!" he threatened.  
  
Zabini pulled his wand. "And what, Weasel, do you think is more powerful? My wand or an enchanted peace of money?" Laugher once again.  
  
"We shall see, Slimy Slytherin." Thomas answered, smiling in confidence. What had that word been? Aah, yes. "Coniungo!" he said. The Slytherins laughed once again, as nothing seemed to happen.  
  
"Ooh, that was frightening!" Zabini sneered. The other Gryffindors stared at Thomas oddly.  
  
"Nice try, mate." Leon muttered.  
  
***  
  
Harry quickly grabbed his sickle, as it started jumping in the air. The staff and some students that had noticed stared at him.  
  
"What is that thing, Henry?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Excuse me, please." Harry said shortly, stood up from his chair and sprinted out of the Great Hall, earning funny looks from both teachers and students. But he was known for his unusual behaviour every now and then. He'd even started carrying a snake around on his shoulders a few days ago. well, even Albus Dumbledore was a bit crazy.  
  
Harry Potter ran. He'd always been a fast runner, even as a child. It had come in handy often. And - mainly thanks to the marauders - he knew lots of secret passages. So he reached Thomas Weasley near Gryffindor Tower within not more than two minutes, an invisibility spell on himself, of course.  
  
***  
  
"Poor Gryffies, have the very evil Slytherins stolen your brooms? Ooh!!!" Simon Zabini sneered.  
  
"Give them back, git! Do you truly think you'll get away with this like that?" Martin spat. "Don't you think people will get a bit suspicious when seven Nimbus 2050 are stolen from us, and the same time you suddenly get seven Nimbus 2050 out of nowhere? You'll be expelled."  
  
"You know what, Whitby?" Zabini answered, grinning, as he walked around the surrounded Gryffindors, clutching Thomas' packet. "I think you're right. You're always right, aren't you? Bloody know-it-all." The Slytherins snickered.  
  
"Why, thank you." Martin answered, smiling slightly. Zabini looked confused. The Gryffindor team beamed at Martin.  
  
"You know, dear Simon, " Martin continued. "if it puts your mind at rest, you're not all that deaf yourself. Slightly mentally retarded, I'd say, but nothing some good books couldn't fix, I'm sure."  
  
The Gryffindors laughed, the Slytherins looked furious.  
  
"Well, Whitby." Zabini spat, "We'll see who's the one laughing in the end. You know what? I think we'll just snatch those brooms of yours in half and throw the thrash into the lake. What do you say, mates?"  
  
"Well, good idea from my favourite seeker, I'd say. That's what we'll do. Follow me!" Flint, the captain, ordered, grinning. "See you later then, Gryffies!"  
  
The Slytherins cheered in agreement. Those brooms would be destroyed, the Gryffindors would be as lame as always and nobody would ever know anything about it at all. Satisfied, they turned from those losers.  
  
Martin held Ronny, who was desperately trying to rush after the laughing Slytherins, by the arm.  
  
"Don't, you fool! They're far too many, we'll be lying in the hospital wing for weeks!" he hissed.  
  
"So what! Do you want them to get away with our brooms! Think about it! The newest Nimbus!" Ronny gasped, struggling against his friends' grasps.  
  
"And do you expect them to leave our brooms on the floor next to us after they've beaten us up? It's no good, Ronny!" Leon, who had taken the other arm, exclaimed.  
  
"So you want us to stand aside and watch them destroy such valuable brooms? There must be something we can do!" Ronny yelled. They heard the Slytherins roar with laugher. So they'd still heard this.  
  
"Well." a body-less voice came from behind them, causing the whole team to turn around in shock. "What about we do this the very legal way for a change?" Evans.  
  
***  
  
"You'd better stop right here, boys."  
  
Simon Zabini dropped that package in shock and turned around. That Evans was there, with those Gryffies behind them. Bloody hell. But Evans couldn't prove anything. Simon only hoped his housemates would play along.  
  
"Anything wrong, Professor?" Zabini asked innocently. The Gryffindors looked furious once again.  
  
"Yes, Mr Zabini, there is something." Harry answered coolly. "I would like you to explain how you came to own those packages you are carrying around so proudly. I and everyone else in the great Hall saw them being delivered to the Gryffindor Quidditch team."  
  
"Well, there must have been a mistake in the delivery, because it was us who ordered them in the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley and it was us who paid for them. So they are ours."  
  
"You ordered those packages in the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley?" Harry scrutinised.  
  
"Don't you believe my students when they tell you something, dear Professor Evans? Do you claim them liars?" came a new voice.  
  
"Hallo, Malfoy. Nice to meet you once again. To tell the truth, in this case, yes, I do indeed claim your students here liars." Harry said, turning around to face his colleague. "And that is simply because I know the truth."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"You'll see." Harry said, annoyed. Gosh, having Malfoy around all day was really not a pleasant thing. Had this prat now started following him around?  
  
"Now, Mr Zabini." he started again, after that pointless interruption, "If you claim to have ordered those packages, you will certainly know what is in there, do you?"  
  
"Yes, I do, Professor." Zabini said, smiling. He was lucky Whitby that fool had told them exactly what to expect. "These are seven Nimbus 2050."  
  
Harry grinned. This was good.  
  
"Now, Mr Zabini, I claim to have ordered those packages as well. And I say there is no single Nimbus in there. We shall see who is lying, agreed?"  
  
Simon paled. What if that was the truth? What if that git indeed had ordered them? For the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Professor Malfoy had told his house once that Evans had been a Gryffindor at school, so the idea of him supporting the Gryffindor Quidditch team was not that unlikely at all.  
  
"Yes, we shall." Malfoy walked over to the Slytherins. "Mind if I open your package, Mr Zabini, to prove this idiot here wrong?" he said, gesturing at Harry. He did not wait for an answer, but took the package from Simon, magically opened it, revealed its contends and gasped, along with everyone else but Harry Potter.  
  
"Well, Mr Zabini. I'd say. twenty points off Slytherin and detention. with our dear caretaker, Mr Filch. I'm sure he can think of a good punishment for things like this, he's a very creative old man. Isn't that justified, Malfoy?" Harry Potter asked, grinning.  
  
"Just sod off, Evans, bloody Gryffindor!" Draco Malfoy whispered, but loud enough for everyone to hear. That caused the Gryffindor Quidditch team to be astonished once again.  
  
***  
  
"I can't believe it, Firebolts! 'That git' bought you the newest Firebolts!" a first-year yelled, as the Quidditch team spread the great news in their common-room.  
  
"Yeah, that's cool. As strange as it might sound, we actually have a chance to win some matches this yeah, I'd say. With those brooms! And Evans will train us pretty hard, I'm sure. You know what? I don't think I even mind anymore, it does help, after all." Martin declared.  
  
"And you know what Malfoy said? Malfoy said Evans had been a Gryffindor!" Leon said. There were several loud gasps, since every Gryffindor present was listening with interest at what the Quidditch team had to say.  
  
"Evans, a Gryffindor!"  
  
" 'That git' gets a kick out of torturing little first-years, a Gryffindor is supposed to be brave!"  
  
"Maybe." Martin said and everyone was listening again. "We should quit all the 'That Git' stuff. He did get us the brooms after all, and it cost him a fortune, so he can't be all bad, now, can he?"  
  
"That's where I disagree, mate." Ronny said loudly and many nodded in agreement. "He may have got us those brooms, fine, and he seems to dislike Malfoy and his fellow Slimy Slytherins a bit as well, but we should still consider how bad he treats us!"  
  
"Yeah, he's mean!" a few exclaimed.  
  
"Okay, a bit, but he's not that bad, is he? Not that much worse than Malfoy, I'd say, and Evans tries to help us, after all." Martin defended his in spite of everything still least favourite teacher.  
  
"Are you mad?" Leon exclaimed. "He's going to make us learn stuff about the Unforgivables, Martin! And did you forget how hard we had to learn for all that first- and second-year stuff he made us repeat because that. Lockhart fool. was an absolutely incompetent teacher? We sat in here working for hours a day! And you think he's not much worse than Malfoy? He's a bloody git, that's what he is!"  
  
"Yeah!" Many cheered in agreement.  
  
"And did you forget what he did to us that one day. two days after our prank? The Slytherins still laugh at us, you know. That teacher's revenge will write history." Some fifth-year moaned.  
  
Martin hated the way nobody shared his opinion, but he had to admit life with Evans was hard. They really had learned on catching up for three years with Lockhart very hard, and when Evans had written a test about the main stuff some time ago, Martin had been one of a few with a somewhat acceptable mark. But still the boy had a feeling Evans was not like he behaved. The teacher had told them during detention, after all, that he didn't like his situation either, but had to do it because the headmaster had ordered it, and because Evans thought it was necessary. If Evans really thought what he did was necessary, could they blame him?  
  
*** Harry Potter was sitting in his office and staring at some books. He didn't need any spell to properly fix those Quidditch robes, he was sure, but he didn't want to perform too much wand-less magic in front of those kids. Martin Whitby had seemed fairly surprised at his abilities, when he had made that boggart fly to his office in class. In fact, Harry had wondered why Whitby had been staring like that for quite some time, till he had finally realised he had been performing advanced wand-less magic. Not that it had been hard at all, of course.  
  
Harry had borrowed Albus' wand, since he didn't have his own with him. Albus' wand contained a Phoenix feather as well, not from Fawkes, of course, but Harry could work simple spells with it without any difficulties. He'd just perform the spells in his head and point the wand at the robes. It would just look like simple silent magic then, and many grown-up adults managed that. Not all, of course, but the kids considered him a 'powerful git' after all.  
  
'This is fine!' Harry thought, but then: 'Why did I borrow Albus' wand? Could have used a fake wand as well.'  
  
Harry shut the book. He wouldn't need to learn any spells, after all, if he just faked. That was simple. He'd just have to picture the result in his mind and concentrate a bit, trusting the magic in him. That, Harry knew, worked quite well.  
  
It knocked at the door and Harry glanced at his watch. They were just in time.  
  
"Marauders for ever!" he whispered, staring at the lock. He heard it open with a 'click'.  
  
Harry had finally put some proper safety enchantments onto his place that morning, to prevent people he didn't expect or trust to enter there. Students, of course, were included, since they had shown him he shouldn't trust them. As was everyone else who didn't know the password. When the password was said, the door would be unlocked for thirty seconds, then locked again. He had done quite good work, Harry thought, and it had taken him long enough. For his standards of course. The Gryffindor Quidditch team entered the door, Martin Whitby proudly carrying a bag with scarlet Quidditch robes.  
  
"Well, let's get started, then." Harry said, obviously cheerful, as they all sat around a magically widened table in his living-room.  
  
***  
  
Half an hour later, everyone stared at their brand-new Quidditch robes. One advantage was the fact that Harry could design each of the robes an individual way, just like the owner liked it. They were still all red, of course, so the students could still easily be recognised as the Gryffindor Quidditch team. On the front there was a Gryffin and the word 'Gryffindor' written under it in a green that matched Harry's eyes. On the back there was the last name of the player, and under it whatever the player wanted it to be. There were only a few problems for Harry to imagine what his students put into words, but the robes still looked specially good. People would be surprised at the next match.  
  
"Could you try to make that snake look a bit more. unhappy, please?" Ronny Longbottom asked. He had made Harry put a Gryffin onto the back of the boy's robe, that was stamping some snake into the ground - taken literally.  
  
"How do I imagine an even more unhappy snake than this one, Longbottom?" Harry answered, half annoyed and half amused.  
  
"Well, you could. imagine some snake's blood all around it. That would certainly make it more unhappy, wouldn't it?" the boy said. The team laughed and Harry grinned.  
  
"Now, isn't that a bit insulting, boy?" Harry answered, failing to keep his voice cold and hard.  
  
"They always insult us, it's time we get some proper revenge." Leon said. "And some picture wouldn't do any harm to anyone."  
  
"Nah, sorry, I disagree. But what about this?" Harry suggested, grinning. He pointed Albus' wand at the robe. Suddenly, there was a trail of green slime behind the snake. Harry laughed and the Gryffindors with him, their complains about 'That Git' all forgotten.  
  
"Perfect!" Ronny exclaimed. 


	15. Chapter 14: Visit to hell

Chapter 14: Visit to hell  
  
"That was interesting, Harry." Sammy hissed, as they were in his living- room, alone. Harry stopped for a moment in surprise , then walked to his green sofa and lay down, causing Sammy the snake to wriggle from his shoulders onto his belly. The snake turned and looked its 'master' into the eyes. Not many people could tell a snake's stare at some prey from its gaze at a friend or compassion, or its master, in case it had one. Harry Potter could easily.  
  
"What was interesting? The students?" Harry asked. He had forgotten about the serpent on his shoulders, since it hadn't moved or talked for a while. Sammy certainly was not light, but Harry had got used to it. Forgetting Sammy on his shoulders was just like forgetting his specs on his nose. There was not really a point for Sammy to talk at all, since Harry had decided he wouldn't speak Parsel in public. Having Sammy around was cool, but he didn't want to get too much attention or show too much strange behaviour, though most people already thought of him as strange. He could talk to Sam anytime when they were alone, after all, and it wasn't worth the risk.  
  
"Yes, they were, too. And the other adult you talked to in the corridor." Sammy hissed.  
  
"You mean Malfoy?"  
  
"I do not know his name, Harry Potter." The serpent informed.  
  
"Well, it must be Malfoy. Wait. Malfoy is that pale, blonde one, if that helps you."  
  
"It does. Yes, I do think we are talking about the same person, master." There that 'master' was again. 'Sir' or 'git' was nothing compared to 'master', Harry thought. 'Master' was so much like. Voldemort and his Deatheaters. Harry hated anything he had in common with that. monster.  
  
"I am sorry, master!" Sammy hissed hastily. Harry looked at him, confused.  
  
"Sorry what for, Sammy?"  
  
"I. I upset you, master. What I said upset you. You were angry. Forgive me, master."  
  
Harry smiled weakly. "It's not you that upset me, Sam. It was. some memories."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it, master?"  
  
Harry hesitated. "Hmm. later, Sammy. Tell me about Malfoy and the students, now, please. I do find that interesting. And do call me by my name, please."  
  
"Yes, Harry Potter. When you opened that package, Mr Malfoy was so. angry. Very angry. Dangerous. He doesn't like you at all, Harry." Sammy hissed.  
  
"I don't care, since I do not like him as well." Harry answered.  
  
"Yes, Harry Potter. I noticed."  
  
Harry was a bit surprised. When he had met Sammy, he had thought about having a companion that could see in any way you could understand the word, but he hadn't thought he'd be read as well. But of course he would. Harry was good at hiding his emotions when he had to or wanted to, and normally people couldn't read him if he didn't let them. But this was not people, this was Sammy. Harry was only glad the snake couldn't tell anyone but him what it 'saw'. Okay, Voldemort of course. but that didn't matter now anyway. Now.  
  
So Malfoy had been that angry? The man had seemed pretty annoyed to Harry, but not. dangerously angry. But Malfoy was probably good at hiding expressions as well, at least it fit his character. And Harry had been too busy grinning at the Gryffindors as he had unpacked that package to pay much attention to Malfoy.  
  
"Those children. strange, I think. First they were sad, and a bit frightened. and very angry, though not as much as that Malfoy. but when you unpacked that package, they were happy. Really happy. And a bit thankful, Harry Potter, thankful. And the other children, in the green robes. they were angry, too. And a bit ashamed, Harry. Why did that package cause so many emotions?"  
  
Harry grinned. They had been thankful. Not much, but he was still glad they didn't think of him as 'that git' anymore. At least he hoped they didn't. He really had tried enough to gain their trust, he thought.  
  
"Well, Sandy." Harry answered the snake. "There was something in the package that made the Gryffindors. that are the kids in the red robes. very happy. Malfoy and the other kids, which were the Slytherins, by the way. don't like the Gryffindors. I liked the situation as well, and I think they don't like me very much either. That's why they were angry."  
  
"So they were angry just because people they didn't like were happy?" Sammy hissed, sounding a bit bewildered. Harry nodded.  
  
"I do not think I understand humans' minds very well, but I promise I will work on it, since I live with you now, master." Sammy hissed, causing Harry to burst out laughing.  
  
***  
  
"Follow me, please, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Some auror instructed.  
  
"Yes, Mr. er." He knew that guy from somewhere.  
  
The man smiled. "Finnigan. Seamus Finnigan."  
  
Seamus Finnigan? The boy had been in Harry's year at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore remembered. An average student. Albus didn't know he had become an auror, but it wasn't that much of a surprise. Lots of young people dreamed of becoming aurors. An auror was respected, often highly praised and popular, though they weren't like they'd once been, Albus thought. They'd once been risking their lives on a daily basis, chasing after dangerous dark wizards, often supporters of Voldemort, performing difficult curses to save people and themselves. Now they refused to believe there were was any evil in their nice controlled world, locked away innocent people who didn't share their opinion and used their dark curses only on prisoners. The job wasn't hard at all, and Albus Dumbledore secretly believed that the aurors were more harmful than the people they locked away. He wasn't even sure they knew what they were doing. With Fudge still Minister of Magic, all people learned in auror education in these days was that they could do anything they wanted to people not sticking to the law, since they were only protecting the community. That they were the heroes. That every single curse they performed, no matter of what kind, was cast in public interest, and so was a good thing to do. That they couldn't do anything wrong at all. But they could, and they did.  
  
"Seamus Finnigan, yes, of course. I didn't know you had become an auror. Boy, you have changed!" Albus said with the false smile he used so often in these days. Seamus didn't see through it at all. Not many could.  
  
"Thank you, headmaster." Seamus said, blushing slightly. "A job like mine causes you to change, you surely know how hard it can be sometimes. We spend our day chasing after the most evil and dark wizards there are, after all."  
  
Albus Dumbledore didn't answer.  
  
"You wanted to visit. Snape. you said?" Seamus said after a moment of walking in silence, spitting the name out like it was some cockroach. "I didn't see anyone visit him before, you know, after you were here I mean, the day after his trial."  
  
"I know." Albus answered shortly.  
  
Seamus got the point that Dumbledore didn't really want to talk about it, and didn't say anything until they were at Severus Snape's cell.  
  
"You've got ten minutes time, Professor." Seamus said once they were there.  
  
Albus Dumbledore stared at the man lying on the floor with shock. Severus was in a slightly better condition than Harry had been, but it was still awful. He was so thin. like all prisoners here were. And he was so pale. But the aurors would only laugh if he told them their prisoners needed to see a doctor. They were supposed to go mad and then slowly die, after all. Everyone here would, sooner or later. Albus was positively surprised how well Severus fought the lack of food, the cold, and most of all, the dementors, considered how much the man had gone through in his life. Still he looked awful.  
  
"Severus? Can you hear me, Severus?" Albus Dumbledore nearly shouted and got a confused glance by Seamus Finnigan.  
  
Severus Snape only turned around on the floor, face off the bars now. The man was completely blocking out everything around him.  
  
"Seems he won't take it much longer, doesn't it?" Seamus said, though not sounding sad at all. "I wouldn't bother trying to talk to him, you won't get a sane word out of him anyway. He's been in here for too long."  
  
Albus ignored him. "Severus!" he shouted. "Look at me when I talk to you, boy!"  
  
Severus Snape turned to the bars once again. He knew that voice. He slowly got up to his knees and opened his eyes. The light was dazzling. No wonder, Severus thought. How long hadn't he opened his eyes? It had been a while, he was sure. He didn't see a reason to open his eyes anymore. No more reason to keep on at all, in fact. There was no life in Askaban, it was just death. Physically being alive did not mean living, Severus knew. So why did he do this? Why not just end it all? Why wait to starve or freeze to death? Or die of insanity, if that was possible? Severus was sure it was possible. And he thought he also knew why he didn't commit suicide. It was because he was too weak, mentally weak, not physically. Well, perhaps physically, too, he could not be sure. He would try anytime of course, if it wasn't for the hope. Hope to get out of here, to get to live again. That hope was false, of course, but moments of hope were the most peaceful moments you could get in Askaban.  
  
"Look at me, Severus!" that voice said again, more quiet, but no less forceful.  
  
Severus looked up into a familiar face, and met some very blue eyes.  
  
"Y. you. A. Albus?" he said weakly. He hadn't used his voice in a long time. "Didn't I. tell you. not to. come?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore smiled weakly. "And why would I listen to you, old chap?" he whispered, unable to hide th sadness in his voice.  
  
***  
  
"And what will you do to him once you have him, father?" Simon Zabini asked his father, a cruel smile on his face.  
  
It was one of the few times a term Simon was allowed to talk with his father about. stuff. in Malfoy's office. One couldn't come to Hogwarts that easily, not even by floo-powder, so Simon only saw his father's head in the fireplace, but he didn't really care. Malfoy was there as well, of course, so the teacher could fix the situation if someone found out what exactly he was doing there. What he was talking about. Malfoy there was not a bad thing, though, since the potions teacher was one of them himself.  
  
"Stupid question, boy." Blaise Zabini snarled. "Sometimes I honestly doubt you are ready yet."  
  
"I am, father." Simon ensured him in a cold voice. He should not act too much like a child if he wanted to be one of them, and he did. That meant he should not show too much emotions. Excitement was an emotion.  
  
Simon would be admitted as one of them soon, perhaps even before summer. His father was proud, he had said. Proud of his son being one of the youngest to be admitted. All Simon had ever aimed to was making his father proud. He was destined to be like him, his father said. His father didn't tell him everything he wanted to know, but what he said was usually true. He didn't mind at all, since his father was a well known, powerful and respected wizard.  
  
Simon didn't know what exactly would happen if they succeeded, but it would be wonderful. They'd get rid of all mudbloods. Simon didn't know how, though, but they would. Probably put some huge memory charms on them, he guessed. Of course there were great memory charms, great enough to manipulate thousands of people. Thousands of ruddy mudbloods. Those probably were deep dark art, Simon thought, but why not, if it helped? If it helped them get their magic to the purebloods, only to the purebloods, since they were the only ones who deserved it.  
  
Or perhaps they wouldn't use memory charms at all? But then, what else? Well, Simon was sure they'd use something brilliant, they always did. He was sure he'd enjoy whatever difficult dark curse they'd come up with.  
  
"Father, I only wondered if you'll. kill him right away, or. show him, who the boss is, first." Simon coolly told the head in the fire.  
  
Yes, naturally he knew about that. The torture. The killing. It was necessary, so they were not to blame. Their goal was a good and a honourable one, after all. Simon had not even been in Hogwarts yet, when his father had told him all about it. He had said that if necessary, the Dark Lord would not mind killing at all, that he would get rid of people standing in the way, trying to stop them. Simon understood. There just was no other way, so a few had to die. It was their own fault, after all. If the mudbloods left their world alone, and the purebloods were a bit more proud of what they were, it wouldn't be necessary at all. And the torture. just a punishment. Hard, of course, but only fair. It was no make them clear to stay away from them, from the worthy ones. To make them stop meddling, so they wouldn't have to be killed. I was practically like saving those fools' lives, Simon thought, though the Dark Lord really had better things to do. All in all, people trying to stop them were really stupid. It was their own fault. Fools.  
  
"That's what you want to know, is it?" his father said.  
  
Simon thought. Was he supposed to answer?  
  
"Well, son. Not even I can foretell the Dark Lord's plans. We will see what he believes the right thing to do. And that, boy, will be the damned right thing. That is." he spat, ".if that guy here succeeds in finding him." He glared at Malfoy.  
  
Yeah, Simon thought. They only needed to find him now. Him. Naturally, Simon knew who his father was talking about. Everybody, including the mudbloods and mudblood-lovers, knew his story. His famous story. Well, today he was more famous for murdering three people than for. the other thing. But they - his father's kind - of course all hated him for what he had done. before. It had all started when he had been nothing but a baby. Helpless, it seemed. But he wasn't, and he hadn't been. His mother had helped him, his worthless mudblood mother, and the two of them had almost killed the Dark Lord. But the dark had survived, and it would rule over the light soon. They only needed that. person. out of the way, and there would be nothing else stopping them from finishing their goal.  
  
"Well, son." his father said, and Simon listened intently, "Don't worry. I do think the 'Boy who lived' will be history soon."  
  
With that, the head of Blaise Zabini disappeared.  
  
***  
  
Albus Dumbledore started worrying. He'd been with Severus for about six minutes now, and he hadn't got a chance to do what he'd come for all time. How could he, with that auror standing next to him, listening to every word they conversed? Albus Dumbledore knew he was running out of time, and he knew he had to change the situation a bit. He had to get rid of Seamus Finnigan. Albus didn't think a memory charm would do too well. he didn't like those anyway. Perhaps a little. accident. would cause this 'great auror' to be distracted for a while? He didn't need that much time at all.  
  
Albus Dumbledore concentrated.  
  
BOOM! Holy shit.  
  
BOOM! There it was again.  
  
Seamus Finnigan was surprised. Whatever that was, it didn't sound good. Seamus didn't know what to do. He'd never been in any situation like this before, and they certainly hadn't learned to handle it in auror education. Seamus was sure they hadn't, even though he didn't know what that noise had been, since they hadn't learned anything about the job at all.  
  
Now what should he do? He wasn't allowed to leave a visitor alone with a prisoner. Naturally, since they could. do pretty bad stuff together. That was a strict rule. But then, should he just ignore whatever that had been? It had sounded like an explosion or something. bad. Attempted escape, perhaps? He had never experienced one before. Neville had told him about one once, he had said some prisoner had tried to beat down a dementor with his bare hands. Foolish idea, and that prisoner had been punished. hard.  
  
Of course he had to stop whatever that was! But Snape and Dumbledore alone here. then again, this was Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class. blah, blah, blah. But he was a great wizard, and Seamus had always highly respected him. If Albus Dumbledore was not trustworthy, then who was?  
  
"Sorry, sir, sounds like there is something wrong out there, but no need to worry, I'll have that fixed within a minute, I'm sure. Excuse me, please." Seamus Finnigan told them.  
  
"I understand you need to do your job, boy. We should be glad there are such. conscientious people like you aurors. looking after the safety of the community." Albus answered, wearing his false smile once again. He was getting too good at lying, he thought. Lying wasn't a good habit at all, as far as he was concerned.  
  
Seamus Finnigan smiled back. "I'll be back in a minute." He said and left the cell, half running.  
  
Albus Dumbledore grinned as he watched the former student turn a corner. "Be sure you won't." he quietly whispered. Then he turned back to his friend behind the bars, who was still kneeling on the floor.  
  
"Severus! Listen to me, mate!" he said. Severus looked up at him with haunted eyes.  
  
"How. how is it, Albus? How are you. dealing with. Vol. Voldemort? He hasn't. done anything. drastic yet, has he?" Severus asked weakly. The man closed his eyes and started shaking hard.  
  
Of course he was worried, Albus thought. Of course he was concerned. Severus Snape had lost his freedom fighting the Dark Arts after all. Yes, freedom. Just like so many. Just like Harry. Freedom was so natural, only very few people understood what it was like not to be free. Here in this ruddy cell in Askaban, there was no freedom. There was only hope. Only very few hope. And that was what Albus had come for. To share the bit of hope he had got now. To share it with a good friend. A friend, who really needed it. Severus Snape had a right to get this hope too, since he had fought on his side. He had a right to know.  
  
"That, Severus, is exactly what I came for." Albus said, smiling slightly. "Our chances have grown a lot since. I last talked to you." Albus said. He carefully tried to avoid things like "Since you were thrown into hell.", for he feared Severus wouldn't appreciate being reminded of his current state, which was horrible. Severus had to feel it, now he didn't need to hear it on top of all.  
  
"And. how is that. so suddenly?" Severus asked.  
  
Albus smiled. "We've got Harry, my friend. Harry is fighting on our side."  
  
"Harry." Severus wondered aloud. "You. don't mean that. Potter fool, do you?"  
  
Albus smiled again. He was glad the boy hadn't lost his mind. and his character. in here. yet. Many had, but Albus had always known that Severus had a strong will. Very strong indeed, he thought, and he meant it.  
  
"Harry Potter is no fool, Severus, and you know that." He smiled.  
  
"Well. he did. manage. to get himself. thrown into. Askaban. You. don't. call that. foolish?"  
  
"It wasn't Harry's fault at all, he couldn't have done anything. And believe me, mate, he would do about anything to undo what happened that day." Albus answered, a bit more earnestly. Harry really hadn't done anything wrong at all, and he suffered a lot because of. it.  
  
"Okay, that is. true, I must. admit. But he. still got himself. stunned. by some. stupid. Deatheater. with some. silly. silver hand."  
  
The boy really seemed completely his old self in character.  
  
"That he did." Albus answered. "But, if I remember correctly, so did you, Severus."  
  
To Albus' surprise, Severus smiled.  
  
"Entirely different. situation. I was busy. fighting, while he was doing. practically nothing. Then that. silver-handed. Wormtail prat would. never. have managed to. stun me. He's about the. most. clumsy. person I know. except for. Neville Longbottom perhaps. It was some. other Deatheater. that stunned me. don't know who exactly. And finally." Severus grimaced. Albus saw a single tear running down his face. ". Potter didn't even commit. what he was. thrown in here for."  
  
He looked down. "They imprisoned me. for. being a supporter of. HIM. and I was. I did. horrible things. murder. torture. and got myself thrown into. Askaban. Potter on the other hand. didn't do anything. and. got himself thrown. here, too. Now say, Albus. who was more stupid. him or me?"  
  
Albus leaned back onto a wall behind him. Poor Severus. Albus hadn't known his friend felt guilty for being a Deatheater, the boy had never said a thing. But then, this was Severus Snape. The man never spoke about fears, guilt or any feeling at all. It was pride, sure, and Albus didn't think too much of it, but it also was the only way of surviving in a life like the one of Severus Snape. And who with a heart in him would not feel guilty about being a Deatheater, even if it was just for spying? And against public opinion Severus did have a heart, he knew. Albus should have thought of it earlier, but Severus had always been so. bitter. that Albus hadn't thought he might feel guilty. But then, that guilt had probably caused the bitterness.  
  
Albus bent down to his knees, so his face was in the same height as Severus', who had begun sobbing hard. Albus realised he had never. yes, but only once. seen his friend cry before. Really cry. Severus just wasn't the type to cry. To show emotions. But then again, men like him crying was one of the most ordinary things at. this place.  
  
"Look at me, Severus." Albus Dumbledore ordered. Severus looked up, probably only in surprise at the tone his friend had just used, but that didn't matter anyway.  
  
"And now listen to me, boy, and listen closely." He said, his voice now about the opposite as it was before. The tone was very soft and gentle.  
  
"You did not do anything wrong, Severus. What you did was a good thing, and the right thing to do, and you saved many lives with it. You were no Deatheater, okay? No matter what those Ministry people say, I know you were no Deatheater, and you know that, too. Tell me that you know it, Severus."  
  
A moment of silence.  
  
"I. I kno. I know." Severus Snape sobbed.  
  
"Very well. You know you were no Deatheater. Of course you killed people, Severus, several of them. Of course you tortured them, that is true, we both know that. But it was the only choice you had, boy. The only way to give me the information I needed, the only was to spy on them. The only way, I remind you, Severus, so save. To save the lives of innocent, which you did. What you did, boy was risk your own live to help others, to save innocent, and that was a brave, heroic and noble thing, nothing else. There really is nothing you have done to feel guilty about. Did you understand me?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Did you understand me, boy?"  
  
A nod and another sob.  
  
"Fine then."  
  
None of them spoke a word for a while, but Severus eventually managed to calm down.  
  
"I don't understand. how, Albus?" Severus asked.  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked slightly surprised. What was he talking about now? Then the boy seemed to read his expression. He was a bright guy.  
  
"Well, that Potter boy. You said he was. helping you now. Last time I. saw him was before. what people call his 'trial'. How can he possibly. help you. from his position in an Askaban cell?"  
  
Now Albus grinned. "Well. I broke in here one night and told him that things were standing bad for us, which they are. In fact, I wouldn't even be surprised if Voldemort thought about when best to attack Hogwarts. Well, I asked him to break out of here and teach at Hogwarts, so he's there if something happens. Harry refused. He said it would ruin his life, that he'd constantly be hunted by the Ministry. I must admit, I was disappointed at first. But then, the next morning, there was a guy standing in the Entrance Hall, asking for the DADA position. I had never seen him before. He was blonde, his skin was a bit brown like he spent much time in the sun. I didn't recognise him from anywhere. Only his eyes.those brilliant green eyes. his eyes seemed so familiar." He said, dreamily.  
  
"Lily's eyes." Severus said.  
  
"Yes, indeed it was. Now, there he is, teaching."  
  
Albus Dumbledore stopped abruptly when he heard footsteps quickly coming nearer. About half a minute later, Seamus Finnigan stood next to him once again.  
  
"Sorry, Professor, but there. you won't believe it anyway. Firecrackers. Firecrackers everywhere, sir. We've still no clue how they got there, or who could have done that. We sent some specialists to look at it all. Hope the Daily Prophet doesn't find out. well, anyway. Would you please come with me, Professor Dumbledore, sir? This was far more than ten minutes, you know." Seamus said.  
  
"Of course I understand, Seamus." Albus said, smiling slightly.  
  
Suddenly, Severus Snape burst out laughing. Both Seamus and Albus looked at him strangely. "Firecrackers, Albus? You. bombarded them with. firecrackers? In spite of. everything, mate, you still are the. crazy guy you. always were. I must say that is. admirable, Albus."  
  
'What are you doing, Severus???' Albus Dumbledore thought, shocked. The last thing he needed now was being made responsible for throwing some firecrackers around in Askaban.  
  
Albus noticed Seamus pale visibly. Then the auror turned to face him. Now it all seemed late. Should Albus use a memory charm? He hated memory charms. It reminded him so much of. Gilderoy Lockhart. And if it went wrong. poor Seamus. Of course, it was very unlikely that it went wrong when he cast it, but still. manipulating other peoples' memories was not a noble thing as far as Albus Dumbledore was concerned.  
  
"P. Professor, please excuse this rude behaviour. and be sure we will punish this prisoner, sir. I am very sorry he offended you, Professor. They're all slowly going insane, you know. it almost impossible to control all their actions." The auror stuttered, smiling nervously. "I am very sorry."  
  
Albus Dumbledore smiled slightly as well, relieved. "That's fine, I do understand you can't do anything about it. And please don't punish him, I'm sure he didn't mean it. Look at him, he looks bad enough already."  
  
Reluctantly, Seamus nodded. "Fine, sir. No punishment."  
  
Albus smiled. Then he turned to Severus one last time. "Do promise me, Severus, that you'll fight for life and sanity as long as possible, okay? Do not give up, boy. Promise, okay?"  
  
Severus stared. "Why should I? There is no chance for me. anyhow. When they release me from here. I'll be almost as old as you are now. There's. no way anyone can. survive that long. So why not. give up now and spare the pain?"  
  
"NO!" Albus Dumbledore almost shouted. "Just promise, okay?" he said, in his normal tone of voice.  
  
Severus Snape stared at friend once again. There was this twinkle in his eyes. which Albus only had when he thought about something only he knew about. Yes, Albus Dumbledore kept many secrets.  
  
"I promise."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note:  
  
So, that's that. Hope you liked the chapter. I did. It was one of the best I've written, I think. Hope it was your taste as well. Thanks for your reviews, by the way. They really make my day. Keep telling me what you think. And there's much to think about in this chapter, I believe. Simon Zabini, eager to become one of them, and poor Snape, finding out about Harry teaching at Hogwarts. God, that was fun to write. A little hint: Some stuff you learned in this chapter might be important later. Grin!  
  
Thanks for reading. Review, please! 


	16. Chapter 15: Quidditch and a challenge

Chapter 15: Quidditch and a challenge  
  
The bell rang.  
  
"All right, folks, that's it, then." Harry Potter told the fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. "For homework I want you to try to perform a Patronus, since I put much effort into explaining how it works and how it is done today. Everyone who manages, say. by the end of the year, shall earn his house fifty points. That is a lot, don't you agree? But it's also hard work. I wish you good luck. Tomorrow then, we'll start with. something else. "  
  
They left the classroom. Martin Whitby grinned at the thought of it all. Fifty points! Only if he managed, of course, but that wouldn't be a problem, he thought. Evans had managed it wand-less, so it couldn't be that hard. Even people as powerful as Dumbledore or Evans - and Evans was damned powerful, he knew by now - couldn't do any very hard curses wand-less, and Martin was sure he could perform any not that hard curses with wand without further problems. He was not stupid, after all. Martin wondered what his Patronus would look like. Evans had showed his in class, it had been a stag. 'Why a stag of all things?' Martin wondered. That deer wasn't even particularly powerful.  
  
"I bet nobody will manage that Patronus thing by the end of the year." Ronny said.  
  
"Why?" Martin answered. "Evans did it without a wand, so it can't be that hard, can it?"  
  
"Well, he does everything wand-less, I say he's just specially powerful." Leon said.  
  
"But that powerful? Surely it's easier than you think." Martin grinned. "Personally, I think we have good chances. It can't be that difficult."  
  
"My father doesn't manage, so it must be pretty difficult, mustn't it?" Ronny said.  
  
Martin stopped short. "Your father doesn't manage a Patronus? But he. he's an auror! One of the best!"  
  
Now it was Ronny who grinned at the shocked expression of his friend. "So? Most adults, even most aurors, don't manage. Dad told me about it. He said he didn't know many people that could perform a Patronus, in fact. And they're all adults, mind you. We're kids."  
  
"Hmm. " Martin said. Maybe Ronny was right?  
  
They entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table for lunch. Yeah, lunch, finally. They couldn't really say why, but this had been one of those specially long mornings. Not that it had been more time from getting up to now, but it had seemed so endless. And so hard. Damned hard. Especially charms. they had just learned that damned 'Accio' spell.  
  
They were just busy loading extraordinarily much food onto their plates, when someone addressed them.  
  
"You got those letters from Evans, too?" Thomas, who was sitting near, asked. Letter from Evans? Why would Evans send them any letters?  
  
"No, we didn't. Letters from Evans, you say? Why's that?" Leon answered and turned to stick his fork into an extremely good looking sausage, only to see that it, as well as all the other food, was. gone. There was no other way to put it. It was just gone. But instead, there was a letter lying on his plate, where his food had been just a moment ago. His food. damn you, Evans! The food! Think about that good food! Leon stared at that green annoying letter, which. dared. to replace his food, in disgust.  
  
"That letter wasn't by any chance green with a red Gryffin on the front, was it?" Martin asked Thomas.  
  
"It was. So you got it?" Was the answer.  
  
"Yeah." Ronny replied.  
  
"Unfortunately." Leon added quietly and unfolded his letter:  
  
  
  
Quidditch practice after supper, meet me at the Quidditch pitch. You already tested those great brooms out yesterday, didn't you? Well, I want to see you fly as well. Looking forward to it, in fact. Did you improve? If you didn't, I'll make you. See you then.  
  
Professor Henry Evans  
  
  
  
"That's all? That is the reason he stole my food? Couldn't he have just come by and told us personally, instead in such a bloody peace of parchment?" Thomas exclaimed and started loading piles of food onto his plate once again.  
  
Unnoticed at the staff table, Harry Potter smiled.  
  
*** +++++  
  
"There is something I want to tell you, master." Came a familiar hiss from his shoulders, and Harry Potter knew it was his snake, Sammy.  
  
"Sure, go ahead." The man answered. "And it's Harry." Harry didn't think his snake knew much about the world he lived in, but it was always fun talking to Sammy anyway. Interesting.  
  
"Yes, Harry. I'm sorry." Silence for a while. "I just had a vision, Harry."  
  
Now that was interesting. A vision? Harry had not experienced that yet, Sammy had told him about it, though. Sammy had explained about visions about the past and the future, as far as Harry remembered. And that they did not often occur.  
  
"It's about you, Harry. Do you want to hear it?"  
  
Harry dropped 'Ugly potions - for experts only', the book he had been reading, and it fell down from the shabby green sofa, where Harry was lying, onto the floor. Harry made no attempt to pick it up.  
  
"About me, Sammy?" he asked, shocked. He certainly had never made good experiences with divination concerning himself. He was sure this would not be good.  
  
"You are frightened, Harry. Why? Don't you want to hear it?" Sammy asked.  
  
"Yes, I do. It's just. people looking into my future usually only see. pretty bad stuff. This is bad too, I suppose?"  
  
"I cannot tell, mast. Harry, because I do not know myself."  
  
"You do not know yourself, Sammy? How is that?" Harry asked, confused now.  
  
"Well, It said:  
  
The panther will make the dragon angry.  
  
The panther is you. that I know, but I do not know what the dragon is. Do you?"  
  
"No." Harry answered, then stopped. "You know about me being the panther? How?"  
  
"Well, you told me, remember?  
  
It took Harry some seconds, but then he remembered. Of course he had told Sandy. He had told his snake about everything. that night.  
  
*** +++ Flashback +++ ***  
  
Harry Potter lay back onto his bed. It was late and he was pretty tired. But he would not allow himself to fall asleep yet. There was stuff to do, and it needed to be done. Work first, then free time.  
  
Harry had spent most of the afternoon correcting and marking some tests and essays of his students. Being a teacher was harder than he had imagined, especially since he was supposed to expect really much from the kids, more than the usual. And he had not even done the Unforgivables yet. Well, that would come, too. Pretty soon, even.  
  
Harry got out one of his books again. His dark books. He'd have to know as much as possible about the Dark Arts, should he ever have to face Voldemort, or else he was sure he wouldn't stand a chance. Harry hoped he'd eventually be able to eliminate some of those. protections. that monster had put onto himself. He didn't know what exactly it was that made Voldemort so close to immortal, but he was sure it was deep dark. It had to be. So he'd just have to know what to do when facing that creature. That again meant he had to know about. well, quite a lot, for he didn't know what he would be up to. God, this situation was horrible, just like that thing which had caused it.  
  
"You're angry, Harry." Sammy hissed.  
  
Harry only snorted. Of course he was angry, he had every right to be, after everything Voldemort had done to him. Damn that monster.  
  
"Why are you angry, Harry? Did I make you angry?"  
  
Harry did his best to calm down a bit, to stop thinking about Voldemort. He didn't want Sammy to think it was her fault, the snake often felt guilty for things she couldn't do anything about. Harry hated that.  
  
"It's okay, Sammy. You didn't do anything wrong, don't worry. It's just. well, I'm pretty tired."  
  
"That makes you angry? Why don't you just go back to bed, then?"  
  
"Because I need to learn."  
  
"You need to learn? A few hours ago you told me you had done all your preparations for lessons tomorrow. Master. did you lie to me?" Sammy hissed, sounding a bit hurt.  
  
"No, I didn't. Now be quiet, please, I need to read." Harry answered, annoyed, and turned back to his book. It was several minutes till the snake spoke again.  
  
"I don't understand, Harry Potter." Sammy said. He slipped off Harry's bed and slithered into the living-room. It was obvious that he was angry now, too.  
  
Harry sighed, put his book away again and followed his friend. "Hey, Sammy." He said, once he had found her. "Listen, Sammy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. That book I was reading was not for lessons. I did not lie to you, Sammy. I'm sorry."  
  
No one spoke for a while. Then, Sammy looked up and met his gaze. She held it for about a minute, and Harry knew it would be better not to look away. He tried to blink as little as possible.  
  
"Yes, you are sorry." Sammy hissed after a while. "I am not angry anymore, Harry Potter. But. I do want you to explain. Why do you need to read it now? What is it about? I find you read a lot."  
  
Harry sighed again, but more in relief. "Well, I guess you really do deserve the truth, so I will tell you now, if you want to hear it. But let's go back to bed and get a bit more comfortable, okay? I'm sure this will take a while."  
  
So they did. Harry told Sammy everything that night. About Voldemort killing his parents, growing up with the Dursleys, Muggle school, his time as a Hogwarts student, Ron, Hermione, every single little 'adventure' with Voldemort he had ever experienced - which were quite a lot, mind you -, the Marauders - Sirius and Wormtail mainly -, his first Animagus transformation - the panther, the nickname that had caused: Mr Razor - since his claws were terribly sharp-, finally: Ron's death, being falsely accused of that murder, Sirius large part in all that, Askaban, and breaking out, hoping to be able to help, to save innocent lives, to protect Hogwarts from Voldemort. well, he spoke about everything.  
  
Sammy was a better audience than Harry had expected, and she seemed very impressed afterwards. Well, anyone would be, Harry thought. At some points it really hurt to talk, especially where Sirius and Ron were concerned. But in the end, Harry was glad he had done it. He felt somehow. relieved.  
  
By the time they were finished, it was six o'clock in the morning. The thought of having to teach in two hours gave Harry a headache.  
  
"I'm so sorry, master." The snake hissed quietly.  
  
Harry was surprised. "Why?"  
  
Sammy looked down. "I shouldn't have made you tell me, Harry. In fact, I shouldn't have made you do anything, you are my master, you are the one supposed to tell me what to do. And it was really hard for you to tell me, I saw it. That story is so. terrible! And I made you tell it, go through all that pain again."  
  
"That's okay, Sammy." Harry answered. In fact, he was smiling. "You needed to know, and I'm glad you know. It's easier for both of us now. I'll be able to tell you everything that's going on in my head. Well, you see most of it anyway." Harry grinned. "And now you'll be able to understand it."  
  
*** +++ End Flashback +++ ***  
  
"Well, Harry, I suppose we need to go teaching again now, don't we?" Sammy asked.  
  
"Indeed we do." Harry answered. "First-years."  
  
"Urgh, those strange ones." Sammy said.  
  
"Why strange?"  
  
"Well, their emotions. The boys are so excited when we come in, like it was some great event, and the girls are terrified at us. I don't know if I should tell you, but when you turn to the board those girls start pointing at you and whispering something about a slimy, green monster on your back. Some are too shocked to even talk at all. And you know what the funniest thing is? There isn't anything slimy on your back at all. I mean, if there was I'd see it too, wouldn't I, hanging around your neck all the time. Wonder what those girls are so very scarred of."  
  
Harry grinned. "Strange indeed, mate. But you know what?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's not only me who causes this. Mainly, it's you."  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
This time, they flew to the Quidditch pitch. Of course they had already tested those brooms on Sunday, they had be damned curious about it, and it had been really great. Their speed was still far from the Slytherins' of course, but they were much faster on their Firebolts. And they were sure Evans would make them much faster, the teacher had even said so himself in that letters at lunch after all. Most did not know how to feel about that. Would Evans be as hard in training as he was in lesson? Well, they would see. They could always complain to Dumbledore if it was as horrible as DADA, after all.  
  
"So is it more fun now?" they heard a voice from above them. They recognised it as Evans at once. Carefully looking up - doing complicated movements like that were still not easy on a broom - they saw their teacher riding on his veteran model of a broom - the very first Firebolt ever. Evans didn't seem to have any problems keeping up with their speed. But then again, this was nothing compared to what they had seen him do on that broom at their first meeting. All in all, that Evans guy was nothing but strange.  
  
Reaching the Quidditch pitch, they slowly landed on the ground.  
  
"Yeah, it's fun, Professor." Martin confirmed, grinning. The boy had decided to treat Evans a bit more respectfully, hoping the others would follow his example. Momentarily, he only earned funny looks from his house- mates, but that would change eventually, he was sure. Evans was not that bad after all. though a bit severe, he must admit.  
  
Harry grinned back. "That's what I had aimed at. To me, Quidditch has always meant fun, and I want you to feel the same way about it. If you don't love the game, you've got no chance to succeed in it."  
  
Most students snickered at that, but Harry just ignored it. What wise words. now that guy also coped the bad habits of Dumbledore.  
  
"One question, sir." Ronny Longbottom said. Martin didn't like the tone in his voice. His friend was going to say something stupid.  
  
"Go ahead, boy."  
  
"What did you do to that peace of rubbish you're riding to make it fly like that?"  
  
Most kids burst out laughing. 'Damn you', Martin thought, 'Give him a chance, he's not that bad. And consider he's a teacher, he can make your lives living hell if you push him too much.' But to his surprise, Martin soon noticed Evans didn't feel insulted at all.  
  
"Well, to your information, Mr Longbottom." Harry said casually, "What you call a peace of rubbish here, is in fact a very good broom. It was considered the best broom there was when I got it, to tell the truth, and it still is as fast as it ever was. Besides, I didn't do anything to it but only took good care of it, using nothing but a broom servicing kid, not unlike the ones you've got now."  
  
Laugher again. Obvious to Harry Potter, those kids didn't believe him at all. Well, there was nothing he could. no, would. do about that now.  
  
"Then how come you are so damned fast?" Leon sneered.  
  
Harry Potter grinned once again. "Well. practice, practice, practice. and perhaps something you could call skill."  
  
*** +++++ ***  
  
An hour later, they were all exhausted. Quidditch practice with Evans was really hard, but it had also been fun and they had improved a lot. They all were secretly glad Evans trained them now, even though they wouldn't admit it to each other - and of course not to Evans.  
  
"Wow, that was hard." Ronny groaned. He was sitting in his favourite armchair in the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the dripping water from his hair. Ronny hadn't bothered drying it properly after he had showered. Neither had his two best friends, who were sitting next to him. They only hoped McGonagall wouldn't check on the room anytime soon, she certainly wouldn't be pleased. but then, McGonagall so rarely checked on there, the risk wasn't that great at all.  
  
"Yeah, hard it was." Martin said. "I don't think I've ever flown like that. If Evans always makes it that hard, though. well, have fun!"  
  
"Imagine what it would have been like if he hadn't spent that time on Thomas and given us that break. I think I would have fallen off my broom." Leon exclaimed.  
  
That was true. In about the middle of the training session, Evans had told them to take a ten minute break, which they had all been very thankful for. They had been halfway to the cabin, when Evans had called Thomas back.  
  
"Come on, boy, let's practice catching the snitch, shall we?"  
  
By the look on his face, Thomas had obviously not been happy, but he had not complained either. So poor Thomas had speeded above the Quidditch pitch while the rest of them had used the time to drink some water or empty their water bottles over their heads. But Thomas had flown faster than usually. Evans had even made him fly directly towards the ground, only very slowly of course, but still. Thomas had never dared that before. And Thomas had not even fallen off his broom, which he had feared he would. All in all, training with Evans had been hard, but effective.  
  
"Do you think we've got a chance in two weeks?" Leon wondered aloud. Martin and Ronny stared at him. They both had not thought about that yet. Their next match would be on Saturday in about two weeks. Luckily, it was against Hufflepuff. They couldn't remember ever winning a match against Hufflepuff, but the Hufflepuffs were weaker than Ravenclaw or Slytherin in Quidditch. If they could beat anyone at all, it would be the Hufflepuffs.  
  
"I don't know." Ronny answered. "Sure, we did improve, and this was our first real training ever, but I don't think it's enough to beat anyone yet, do you? Consider we've never beaten anyone at all. It's a bit too much to expect, isn't it? Even if we've improved a bit."  
  
"Well, we still have got nearly two weeks. God knows what will happen in that time." Martin said.  
  
"Yeah, I agree." Came a new voice from behind. They turned around in their seats to find Thomas Weasley standing there. None of them had noticed their classmate before. "I don't think I've ever deliberately flown like today." Thomas said. "And that was only one hour of training. Think about what Evans will make us be like in two weeks."  
  
Martin smiled. "Quite possible. Hi, Thomas, by the way."  
  
"Let's go fly a bit again, shall we?" Ronny suddenly exclaimed, earning funny looks from his friends. "Well." he added sheepishly, "I just feel like flying. Not training, only flying, only for fun."  
  
Ronny himself knew he was acting. strange. but this was just what he wanted at the moment. Flying. Ronny was sure a month ago he would have laughed about that suggestion coming from a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. A while ago, flying had meant nothing but shame and fear. In these days, it was fun. Ronny didn't know when exactly he had changed his opinion about that. Some time during that training session probably.  
  
"Sure, why not!" the others agreed. They liked that idea as well.  
  
"But let's take it easy, okay?" Thomas said. "I'm tired."  
  
"Yeah." Martin replied. "And let's not use any Quidditch balls. We'd only lose them, it's getting dark."  
  
The other nodded in agreement. The children were halfway up the stairs to their dorm, where they kept their brooms, when they heard another, absolutely unexpected voice.  
  
"And do dry your hair before you go out again, will you? Or else you'll probably find yourselves in the hospital wing with a horrible cold tomorrow. And I know for a fact that you don't want to miss tomorrow's Defence lesson, it will be interesting. Not necessarily pleasant, but certainly interesting."  
  
They turned to find a man sitting in one of the armchairs they had been sitting in not a minute ago.  
  
Albus Dumbledore.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
Harry Potter zoomed through the air on his old Firebolt once again, enjoying the cool evening sky. He was happy once again. Happy. Happy he had managed to make those kids have some fun flying, playing Quidditch, the game he loved so much. At least he hoped he had managed, but he thought it clearly had been a good start. The Gryffindors had looked. satisfied. in the end. But also awfully exhausted, which had surprised Harry. He was sure he hadn't made the training that hard at all. But then again, those children of course were in a very bad condition.  
  
Harry Potter certainly hadn't expected what he saw next. There were four people flying towards the Quidditch pitch on brooms, pretty slowly. He could see them in the light from the castle, but there was no way those people could see him, that much was sure. Harry landed. Still he had no idea who those four were or what they were doing here, so he would wait and see. But he decided he would better watch unseen, just in case.  
  
As they approached, Harry could recognise those four people and was even more surprised. Ronny Longbottom, Leon Whitby, Martin Creevey and Thomas Weasley. What were those students doing here? Had they just come to fly? Harry really had hoped they'd start practising on their own just for fun, but he hadn't expected his first training session to have that much effect on them.  
  
*** +++++ ***  
  
"I'm the king of the world!" Ronny yelled as he speeded through the air. He was sure he'd never been higher and faster before, not even at training today. Wow, this was fun.  
  
"Have you finally gone mad?" Martin shouted at him and laughed.  
  
"No, I've not!" Ronny answered. "Bet you'll never catch me?!"  
  
"We'll see!" Leon exclaimed and flew after Ronny as fast as he could. There was almost no difference in their speed. Even though he was a bit slower than his friends, Martin soon joined in the chase.  
  
"And the two seekers have seen the snitch, they're almost even in speed!" they heard from below them. They watched, chuckling, Thomas Weasley, speeding towards the ground, imitating the commentator. Their classmate didn't seem the least bit afraid of falling down anymore. About two metres above the ground, Thomas safely pulled out of the dive. He knew as well as the others that two meters was not dangerous, but he didn't want to risk hitting the ground for nothing. In a real match, Thomas was sure he would dare go deeper.  
  
"And Thomas Weasley catches the snitch!" Martin yelled, laughing. "So Gryffindor beats Slytherin 590 : 0 !"  
  
The others clapped and cheered loudly at their little game. Flying could be fun in the end. Thomas, who was speeding up to them, bowed deeply, just careful enough not to fall off his broom.  
  
They flew and played like that for about half an hour before deciding to go inside again, since it was getting really dark outside. They did not notice the invisible figure following closely behind.  
  
*** ++++++++++ ***  
  
They were surprised to find the Slytherin Quidditch team with their brooms in the Entrance Hall. They looked like they were going to some training session or something like that, all prepared for Quidditch. They weren't surprised to see 'dear' Professor Malfoy with them. They only hoped the head of Slytherin house would just ignore them, but of course Malfoy wouldn't miss a chance to remind them that he was in the stronger position, since he was a 'honourable' professor.  
  
"Oh, what is that? Four Gryffindor students entering the castle from outside! What a nice surprise!" Malfoy sneered at them as he noticed the kids slowly coming towards them. Several Slytherins snickered.  
  
"We didn't do anything forbidden, Professor." Martin explained. Once again, it was good that Martin knew the rules that well, so Malfoy couldn't punish them for nothing. "We just were out a bit, flying, you know. We didn't exceed time limit at all, so that was okay, we didn't break any rules." The Gryffindors grinned. Malfoy couldn't do anything. They turned to go, replying the glares from the Slytherin students.  
  
"Oh, but you did." Malfoy said casually. The Gryffindors stopped and turned around.  
  
"And that would be?" Thomas asked. He knew he could count on Martins knowledge. "You can't do anything to us if we haven't done anything wrong, and we haven't."  
  
"And there you're wrong again." Malfoy sneered. The Slytherins laughed. They knew their teacher would do something funny to those Gryffies now.  
  
"I, dear students, " Malfoy continued, "I can punish you in any way I want to, if I find you doing something. irresponsible. And I do find it rather irresponsible for students in your age to go outside, flying, after sunset. Or haven't you noticed it was getting dark?"  
  
Laugher from the Slytherins once again.  
  
"We have." Ronny spat, angrily. The others only hoped he wouldn't let his infamous temper get the better of him right now, that might be pretty dangerous in front of Malfoy. "And what exactly, Professor, " he added, in the same tone of voice, "were your students here about to do?"  
  
"Longbottom with his bad temper once again, eh?" Malfoy sneered. A bit quieter he said: "You're so unlike your father in your age, boy, it's creepy. I'd doubt you're even related if you didn't look that much alike."  
  
Ronny became angrier.  
  
"You look almost exactly like your 'heroic' daddy, boy, except for your hair. That red hair. Weasley hair, huh? You got that from your Muggle- loving mother. But the rest of you is all from your father, except for your mind."  
  
Malfoy grinned and Ronny was furious. He hated people insulting his parents. The others just watched the scene, the Gryffindors worriedly, it would be hard to hold Ronny off the professor if things came to the worst, and the Slytherins eagerly, waiting for that Gryffindor fool to finally explode and do something stupid. That would be fun.  
  
"Do you know what your father would have done in this situation, Longbottom?" Malfoy asked, still grinning.  
  
Martin and Leon grabbed Ronny's arms. They were sure their friend wouldn't like what Malfoy was about to say.  
  
"He probably would have wet themselves and fainted or ran out crying." Malfoy said.  
  
That did it.  
  
It took Leon and Martin lots of strength to hold Ronny back, but somehow they managed. The Slytherins burst out laughing at that.  
  
"Liar!" Ronny shouted, but only to earn another wave of laugher.  
  
"Let him be, it's not worth it!" Martin whispered.  
  
"And, just to your information: " Malfoy spoke again, "You were out there all alone. My students here" he said, pointing to the Slytherin Quidditch team, "will be carefully looked after by an adult. That would be me."  
  
The Slytherins grinned in appreciation. Having someone like Malfoy on their side was cool. They all liked the teacher.  
  
"So, dear Gryffindors, I'd say, well. forty points off and detention tomorrow after supper. With me."  
  
Malfoy's Quidditch team laughed and the professor grinned evilly. "Ah, and, not to be forgotten: Ten points off for your cheek, Longbottom!" This caused Ronny to be close to exploding again.  
  
"But, dear colleague, they were looked after again." Came a new voice from behind the Gryffindors, which they recognised as Evans' immediately. The slowly turned around, but didn't see anyone. Malfoy though seemed to have recognised the voice as well.  
  
"Where are you, Evans!" he exclaimed.  
  
Silence.  
  
"What do you mean. ah, sure, I'd forgotten. I'd better undo that curse now, shouldn't I?" Harry Potter muttered. He suddenly became visible, standing in front of 'his' students now.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you that the points you just took off were taken without good reason, since these four students here were looked for all the time, by me, which of course you couldn't know. You do see my point, don't you?"  
  
"I do." Malfoy spat after a while. That Evans prat again. Malfoy hated the way this man used to ruin his fun. Someone needed to do something about it.  
  
"That's fine, so the punishment is cancelled. Come with me now, boys. It's getting late, isn't it?" Harry said, turned around and slowly walked away. His students hurriedly followed, happy they finally could escape those slimy Slytherin gits.  
  
"You always need to help your poor little kids, don't you, Evans?" Malfoy said.  
  
Harry Potter stopped and turned around, facing Malfoy. His students slowly followed, a bit nervous. "I think they can get along on their own pretty well, Malfoy." Harry said.  
  
"No they don't." Malfoy spat. "Gryffindors are all nothing but helpless little babies, you as well as them. Always sticking around together, because you can't handle anything alone."  
  
"Get to the point, Malfoy, or stop wasting my time." Harry answered calmly. He wouldn't let Malfoy get him like that.  
  
"The point is, 'Professor'" Malfoy said, "that I don't think a. person like you. should be allowed to get a teaching position at a school like this one. Look at yourself, Evans. Pitiable. Look at that beast around your neck. You need a snake for protection and still consider yourself a Defence teacher? You couldn't fight a flubberworm if your life depended on it. And that. headmaster of this school. hired you to teach the students fight the Dark Arts? He must be getting old, huh?"  
  
The Slytherins laughed. That Evans was a git. Finally someone had told him.  
  
Harry was getting angry. He knew he shouldn't, but there wasn't really anything he could do about that.  
  
"And what about you?" he suddenly yelled, furiously. "You call me pitiable? I don't need to take points off students - students who didn't do anything at all - to be satisfied with my work. And I'm not that weak at all, Malfoy. You are afraid of Sammy? My little snake here? Sammy is no protection, he's just fun to be around. If you can't take that it's your problem. And I, Malfoy, do defend people when I think it's better to. At least I have the ability to care about things, which I'm sure you do not have. At least I know how to treat people. Treat them properly, not the slimy way you use to. I also know how to make friends, Malfoy, not only enemies. Go on like that and you'll drown in enemies. In contrast to you, Malfoy, I have morals. And that is all I need. And I." Harry hesitated. He knew he shouldn't say that, he knew it was the meanest thing he could say now, but he didn't really care that time. Malfoy wasn't exactly friendly himself after all.  
  
"I, Malfoy, would never let my father. rot in hell like that. You call yourself his son, but you didn't ever visit him there, did you?" Harry quietly said, his voice colder than most had ever heard it. "Did it ever cross your mind that he might need you in there?"  
  
He turned abruptly and walked away, a lot faster than before. Ronny, Leon, Martin and Thomas hardly managed to keep up with their teacher.  
  
"You're nothing but a covert, Evans!" Malfoy shouted from behind.  
  
For the first time Harry noticed Albus, Minerva, Hermione, several other staff members and lots of students standing there, watching them. Of course many people would be up to see who that insane person was that was shouting like mad there in the Entrance Hall. Harry still chose to ignore Malfoy's shouts, until:  
  
"Henry Evans, I challenge you to a wizards duel!"  
  
Harry stopped. He turned around wordlessly and began to walk towards Malfoy once again. The four students that had been with him quickly walked to some of the other students standing near.  
  
The Entrance Hall was completely silent as Harry Potter approached Draco Malfoy. Most had never witnessed such an event before. A challenge to a wizards duel. A real wizards duel. Of course it wouldn't be a duel to death, but only about pride, but it was still a rare and fascinating event. Would Evans accept? Most people that were challenged to a wizards duel accepted; they knew, if they had a chance to win or not. This was just about pride. If Evans didn't accept, he probably would be claimed a covert for the rest of his life, or at least until he duelled Malfoy. If he did accept. well, he'd have to attend, or he'd be claimed.cowardly, and disgraceful on top. And attending might be hard, Malfoy was a powerful guy. They again, Evans was too. but they didn't know Evans as well as they knew Malfoy. Who was more powerful?  
  
Evans was standing in front of Malfoy now, both men looking grim.  
  
"Come again?" Evans said after a while.  
  
"I just challenged you to a wizards duel, Evans." Malfoy repeated, completely serious. A duel was nothing to joke about.  
  
Silence for a while.  
  
Harry turned around once again and looked into the eyes of Minerva, Herm and Albus, which all seemed to say 'Don't!'. Harry knew he wouldn't have any problems beating Malfoy in that duel, but still. should he? Malfoys power didn't even come close to his own. He knew that. Malfoy didn't. Was it fair? But then, Malfoy had challenged him, not the other way around. He shouldn't feel bad accepting. Would it be dangerous to show his power? Not all of it of course. but in a duel he was supposed to show the best he could do.  
  
Harry faced Malfoy again, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. "I refuse." He said, loudly and clearly, for everyone to hear.  
  
Lots of people were disappointed. Some slowly turned to leave, there was nothing more to see now.  
  
"I knew you were a covert. And I was right." Malfoy exclaimed.  
  
"I am not." Harry calmly answered. "I just don't see a point in that duel."  
  
Most started laughing or were just disappointed. Only a few were relieved. Harry heard people saying things like "Bloody covert!" or "And that guy once was a Gryffindor!". It took some self-control not to do anything he'd better not do.  
  
"Now go and ring your mummy, Evans! I'll make sure you get a teddy for Christmas!" Malfoy shouted.  
  
Harry turned around. He knew what he was about to do was stupid, but he didn't care much at the moment. He didn't want people to think he was a covert, since he didn't fear Malfoy the least bit at all.  
  
"Does that offer of yours still remain, Malfoy?" Harry Potter said, not very loudly, but everyone heard him clearly.  
  
Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it does. Changed your mind, Evans?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Fine, if you want this, I'll play along. Draco Malfoy, I accept your challenge to a wizards duel. I'll meet you at the Quidditch pitch tomorrow evening after supper."  
  
Without a further word, Harry Potter turned and finally walked away.  
  
# # # # CHAPTER END # # # #  
  
Author's note:  
  
That's that, hope you like it. Look forwards to the duel? Hope you do, might get interesting *grin* ! You will, however, have to wait for chapter 17. Sorry, folks, but there's a lot to write about!  
  
Anyway, thanks for all your reviews, and keep them up they really make my day!  
  
What do you think about Mr Razor, the panther with the sharp claws? I hadn't mentioned him before, had I? Well, now you know about him.  
  
And for those of you who miss good old Padfoot. he will, for the first time in this whole story, be featured in next chapter. But I won't tell more about that yet, you'll just have to read.  
  
And: Thanks for your patience, I know I take a lot of time!  
  
Bye, Ottilchen 


	17. Chapter 16: Lessons and a Ministry probl...

Chapter 16: Lessons and a Ministry problem  
  
Harry Potter was in a pretty bad mood when he awoke next morning. This day wouldn't be fun. First, classes. He was going to teach them the Unforgivables that day, and he was sure they wouldn't like it, by the way the Gryffindors had reacted to his warning. Harry would make sure they all learned it about the same time. He was sure it would be easier to get a huge wave of complains than to get them dropping on him one by one all over the year.  
  
Then, that date of his. after supper at the Quidditch pitch. Harry didn't fear Malfoy or whatever Malfoy was going to do. or better try to do. on him, but he wasn't going to take it too easy as well. Underestimating an opponent in a duel or in any situation at all was a big, bad mistake, Harry knew. He wouldn't make that mistake, he was not that stupid. And he would get those thoughts out of his head. Harry Potter would not let that Malfoy git ruin his day. Never.  
  
"I have rarely seen you in such a bad mood, Harry." Sammy hissed.  
  
Harry glared. "Me, in a bad mood? That's rubbish. That Malfoy isn't affecting my mood at all, and neither are those Unforgivables. It's not my fault they've got to learn it, after all. They'd better blame Voldemort for that, not me, huh? No, My mood is fine, it really is. There must be something wrong with your eyes, Sammy."  
  
Sammy didn't respond, but only waited patiently. Waited for Harry to continue.  
  
"Yes, okay, I am in a bad mood, very bad, in fact, since this bloody day will be horrible in every way possible and I'm more than glad to go to bed again tonight."  
  
Sammy waited on Harry's bed as the teacher got ready for breakfast.  
  
"May I come along for classes today, Harry?" Sammy asked, as Harry came to get him. The snake wound up around his neck again, like he usually did out in public.  
  
"I don't see why not." Harry replied. "If you don't mind lots of anger and fear in my students, that is. Because that's what I expect to get today."  
  
*********************** ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Ronny Longbottom, Leon Creevey and Martin Whitby were on their way to the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom, as well as several other fourth year Gryffindors and, unfortunately, Slytherins.  
  
"I still don't understand why they put us together with the Gryffindors of all people." Simon Zabini told some fellow Slytherins loudly, making sure everyone could hear him clearly. "I mean, look at mummy's darlings over there, they get along with the Hufflepuffs just fine. Then we could get the Ravenclaws. Not exactly first choice as well, but the best you can get here. I mean, except for us of course they're the only ones with something you could call brain."  
  
Ronny was about to launch at the Slytherins again, who were snickering now, but Leon held him back. He was getting tired of constantly having to control his friend's annoying temper, they'd have to have a long nice chat some time soon. Leon knew Martin hated this as well.  
  
"At least we." Martin said in the calm way he always spoke when he was attacking someone, "Have a Head of the House."  
  
The Slytherins were startled.  
  
"And what do you think Malfoy is, fool?" someone asked.  
  
"Aah, yes, Malfoy." Martin sing-songed. "But who will be his successor?"  
  
Confusion again. "Why successor, Whitby? You gone mad?"  
  
"What, you haven't thought about it yet? My, my, do you actually think Malfoy can keep his position after Evans is done with him tonight?" Martin said, grinning. "I don't think he can even stay a teacher after that. Haven't you noticed Evans' power? The way he performs most difficult wand- less magic and doesn't even seem to concentrate? Malfoy will be ashes afterwards."  
  
"I disagree." Zabini spat. "Just because you've never seen him do it doesn't mean he can't. I'm sure Malfoy is as powerful as Evans, if not more so. The way Evans shows off with it only shows that he's weaker than Malfoy."  
  
"We'll see." Leon said.  
  
He rounded a corner, only to have some second year Hufflepuff girl bump right into him.  
  
"Hey, watch where you're going!" Ronny, who was still walking next to Leon - just in case -, exclaimed, surprised.  
  
He was even more surprised when he saw how awfully pale that girl was. "Hey, what's wrong, kid?" he carefully asked.  
  
"P. Professor Evans and that. beetle. he just."  
  
But she didn't tell them what exactly the teacher had just done; instead she hurried away from them and the classroom, terrified, to one of her friends.  
  
Martin Whitby felt very odd when he entered the classroom to attend the upcoming lesson. He had a feeling he knew what the professor had done to the beetle, but he didn't want to tell his friends and classmates yet in case he was wrong. He sincerely hoped he was.  
  
The students saw Professor Henry Evans, one of their least favourite teachers, sitting at his desk and staring at the wall. He looked so. strange. Much older, very tired and his eyes were so. empty. Not that he usually showed many emotions, more the opposite, in fact, but there had always been something in his eyes, something or another, sometimes anger, usually something not readable, recently sometimes even amusement or even. happiness. Now there was just nothing.  
  
Suddenly his head jerked up, it was the first time he actually seemed to notice their presence. For a while students and teacher just stared at each other, neither saying a word. Then he smiled weakly and something returned to his eyes, but they could hardly see that, for he shut them quickly for some seconds. When Evans opened his eyes again shortly after, his gaze was hard again, like always in class. Also his body visibly relaxed and that false smile vanished. He leaned back in his armchair.  
  
"Morning, class."  
  
This sentence came so unexpected that many jumped or winced at hearing it, but it was not different to the way he usually spoke. All in all, the teacher seemed to be just fine now. Why the strange behaviour then?  
  
"Good morning, Professor Evans." The class mumbled, though not as simultaneously or as loudly as usual.  
  
Martin was pretty startled at his teacher's uneasy appearance. The man did not seem to feel well in his situation, which the boy would have expected anyone to be if he had to perform. to do what Evans had just done. yes, anyone, but not this man. Not Evans.  
  
By now, Martin was sure Evans had just shown those second years the Unforgivables, probably demonstrated it on a beetle, by the few words he had understood from that Hufflepuff kid. Of course, that had to be it. After all, Evans had even told them he would do it, though he had not told them when. And Dumbledore had hinted something after that Quidditch training. he had said next day's Defence lesson would be unpleasant, but very interesting. hadn't he? Then those terrified second years.  
  
Martin wondered if his fellow classmates had figured out the reason for all this as well. He hoped they had, for he didn't want them to be. unprepared. But then, how could you be prepared for Unforgivables, even if you knew it coming? Martin decided you couldn't. He directed his attention back towards the teacher.  
  
Harry Potter sighed. Back in his own time as a Hogwarts student, he had always tried to avoid the Unforgivables as best as he could, naturally. He had made some very unpleasant experiences with those after all, he knew what they were like, and he had been pretty young when he had. unintentionally found out the very feeling. of every single one of them, which not many people could claim. Even though from one of those three he could not remember more than a flash of green light. and perhaps that awful, cruel laugher. but that didn't really count, now did it? That had not been the curse, but. the monster at the other end of the wand, after all. Harry had never expected he'd ever be casting any of those disgusting curses that he hated so much, even if his intentions were good ones at least.  
  
Harry Potter knew that he had to get started now, that he was wasting time. And it didn't really matter how he started the subject, did it? They'd hate it anyway, he was sure, so better get over with it now.  
  
"So, what do you know about the Unforgivable curses?"  
  
***** +++++++++++++ ***** Remus Lupin was walking through one of many corridors of the Ministry of magic, heading to the office of his best friend, who was now Minister Fudge's second. 'Yes', he thought, 'Sirius has made a great career after his time as a 'convicted criminal'. And Sirius now was the right man to solve his problem, once again.  
  
Yes, Sirius had helped him before, when he had really needed it. Remus had once again been unemployed, and had once again run out of money, and he was sure it had never been that bad before. Of course, nobody had wanted to hire a werewolf, no matter what his qualities were. Remus had been homeless, so he'd had to live on the street, and he'd begun stealing, for that had been the only way to organise the food he had needed so urgently. By that time, Sirius had been freed and already gained a very high position in the Ministry of Magic, even made it to Fudge's second. In that position, he'd been able to decide who or not to give a job in the Ministry, and the day Remus had got the job offer had been his friend's very first day in the position, as the werewolf had found out later.  
  
Compared to what Sirius had done for Remus in the past, his tiny problems at work sounded ridiculous. But Remus knew this one wasn't.  
  
So Sirius had practically saved his life, and Remus felt indebted, and very thankful for that. The day he had got that letter telling him he was offered a position at the Ministry of Magic, Remus Lupin had sworn he'd be a good worker, a faithful worker, and never let anyone down there, especially not his boss and best friend, Sirius Black. He'd help the Ministry help the community; he'd help those who needed help - help from the Ministry - even if he spent most time of work in his office. Yes, that was his job, and it was a good job. Those people would see he was not only some bloodthirsty monster. They'd see he was not useless. Because he wouldn't let them down. Never.  
  
Remus Lupin finally reached the office, greeter the secretary and knocked at the large wooded door of the office.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
Sirius Black was busy going through a huge pile of awfully annoying papers about the search for that person he'd once called his 'godson', when somebody knocked at his door and broke his concentration. To say he was irritated was an understatement.  
  
"Enter!" he growled, not even trying not to sound displeased at the interruption.  
  
Remus Lupin opened the door. Sirius thought he should have known it; him again. Somehow, over the years, Remus had developed the strange habit of always bothering him at the wrong time, usually asking for advice. As if he couldn't solve his problems himself, which Sirius was sure he could, most of them at least. Remus' only real problem was that he was too emotional, Sirius thought. That was a weakness, that made everything far more complicated. Remus probably just thought he'd use the chance to visit an old friend, as if there were no better things to do. Boy, that man really was way too emotional. Being emotional and working for the Ministry were two things you shouldn't do combined, Sirius knew. Remus didn't. How very unfortunate for the werewolf.  
  
"Hi, mate! I've got some problem, and I thought I could combine solving it using the advice of my boss with having a good chat and perhaps a cup of tea with my best friend." Remus said, grinning.  
  
Sirius gave a forced smile in return. "Hello, Remus. I'm really sorry to turn you down, but I've got stuff to do. So could you cut it short, please?"  
  
"Oh sure, Padfoot." Remus said, trying not to look too disappointed. He knew Sirius was under a lot pressure, especially with what was. going on. in these day. With that. Potter. being on the lose. God, how he despised that person, that person who had betrayed them all. His friends, his godfather, practically the whole wizarding world. not to mention his parents on top of all. His parents, who had given their lives for him. And they certainly hadn't done that noble deed for their son to become one of. the dark side. Remus hadn't seen Sirius show any emotions after Harry had. shown his real self, but he knew people, after living through such a trauma like Sirius had, often cut off any emotions, so it didn't hurt. mentally hurt. that much. But he was sure Padfoot couldn't have taken it easy.  
  
"So, to my problem. We've captured three dark wizards we've been searching for for ages, you know. They've been sentenced to three years of Askaban each. The problem is: We're two cells short and I dunno what to do about it."  
  
"Hmm. That really is some problem you have there," Sirius said, "and I can't possibly leave it in your hands, it's too much of a decision for you to have to make, that much is sure. It would be irresponsible to leave it to you."  
  
Sirius looked at the pile of papers on his desk and sighed. "I really can't say I've got much time for more work right now, but I'm sure I'll manage somehow. Just leave it to me."  
  
Remus rose an eyebrow. "You want to do that yourself, too? Don't you think you've enough on your head already? You've hardly any free time anymore, Sirius. I don't think it would be a good idea to load that upon you as well now, mate."  
  
Sirius sighed. "Yeah, Remus, I know it's pretty rough for me in these days, but don't worry about that. Someone has to do the job after all, no matter how hard it can be. Leave it to me, Remus, I'll solve that problem."  
  
Remus frowned. Sirius did have a lot on his shoulders, he always had, but then, somehow Sirius always handled everything just fine, no matter how hard it was.  
  
"Okay, mate." He said.  
  
Sirius, who's attention had already been back to that 'Harry James Potter' file, looked up and gave a short nod, before turning back to work.  
  
"Fine then, Padfoot. I see you need to work, I'll be off now. Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
The door closed.  
  
Sirius waited several minutes, pretending to be looking through the file, before turning to Remus' problem. It had not been the first time the werewolf had come with some problem, and Sirius Black was slowly getting annoyed. But then, Remus was still so. emotional, even after working for the Ministry for so many years now. That fool even still insisted on calling him 'Padfoot'. that disgusting childhood nickname of his. It always reminded him of the past, of his time as an over-emotional, foolish, childish, weak. person. That past was about the only thing in his life Sirius Black currently felt ashamed of. Luckily, that past was rarely mentioned here at work, where he spent most of his time. There were no over- emotional weaklings here at work. Well, only very few, he thought, thinking about Remus. Being reminded of that past as a fool was one reason Sirius Black avoided the company of Remus Lupin as well as possible.  
  
'Now', Sirius thought, 'Do not dwell on the past, man, it's over, fortunately. There's work to do.' And there was.  
  
Sirius took a small file with information about the current Askaban staff from some shelves at the wall. He looked through it, searching for somebody to solve his problem, some younger guy perhaps, who's rank wasn't too high. he found one.  
  
"Linda, send Mr Seamus Finnigan here please, I've got some orders for him. And do not let anyone know about it." He told his secretary through a telephone.  
  
"Of course, Sir." She answered in here usual sweet voice.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
Seamus Finnigan was very nervous as he approached Sirius Black's secretary. Yes, he'd been called for by the Minister's second himself, who was a very important and influential person indeed. Seamus wondered what he could possibly have done wrong enough to be punished by the practically most high- ranking person working there. Everyone knew that Fudge, the current Minister of Magic, trusted Black and left every decision to his second, now matter how important. So all Fudge was good for now was represent the Ministry, be the always smiling face in the Ministry and tell people everything was fine every now and then. Theoretically, he was also responsible for everything that was going on in the Ministry, but Black was doing his job just fine and not anything had gone wrong there since Black had been made the man giving the orders, so Fudge had not checked on the Ministry's work for years.  
  
"Are you Mr Seamus Finnigan?" the secretary asked, ending Seamus' thoughts.  
  
"Me? Er. yes, yes I am." Seamus said, and mentally cursed for making a fool of himself by stuttering.  
  
"Very well, Sir. You are expected." She said sweetly. The big, wooden door leading to the man's office magically opened.  
  
Seamus swallowed and entered. He jerked as the door shut behind him and cursed again. Seamus took a few steps towards the desk, where Sirius Black was sitting and looking him up and down, which made him even more nervous. Finally, Sirius Black spoke.  
  
"Had a good day, Mr Finnigan?"  
  
"I. yes, good. Usual, I'd say, and. well, nothing out of ordinary."  
  
Seamus noticed he was stuttering again. God, that man probably thought he was a complete fool. well, he certainly behaved like one. Then, he thought, he shouldn't have said that. ordinary. Whatever was going on here, it certainly was not ordinary, or he would not have been called to see the Deputy Minister. He was making too many mistakes.  
  
"Now, Mr Finnigan, you don't need to be so uncomfortable around me, I won't bite, you know." Black said and smiled. "Why don't you have a seat?"  
  
Seamus turned around and found a chair standing directly behind him. He was sure that chair had not been there a minute ago, but he obeyed the man in front of him anyway and sat down.  
  
"You wanted to see me, Sir?"  
  
Finally, Seamus had managed to stop that annoying stuttering of his. He felt instantly better.  
  
"Yes, Finnigan, I did." Black responded. "And I'll get straight to the point, so you'll get to enjoy the evening with your family. Is that okay with you?"  
  
Black smiled. For some reason, Seamus didn't like that smile. It looked a bit. false. Seamus nodded. Of course that was okay.  
  
"Fine. You know, I've got some problem, and I think you're exactly the right man to help me solve it. Do you accept that task?"  
  
Seamus frowned. He had to solve a problem? Solve a problem for the Deputy Minister? What could that problem possibly be? He was not very qualified after all, and certainly not high-ranking the least. Why him?  
  
"What is that problem, Mr Black, Sir?" he asked anxiously.  
  
Black smiled. That smile again. "Well, Mr Finnigan. apparently our aurors have caught three dark wizards. They were sentenced to some time in Askaban. I do not remember the exact punishment, but it was a few years, I believe. The problem is that, as you probably know yourself, since you work there, that at the moment there is only one vacant cell left in Askaban. Now, as we need a place to put the other two newly sentenced criminals, I need you, Mr Finnigan, to do something about just that. Perhaps you could see to it so that there'll be three vacant cells soon, if you understand what I mean."  
  
Seamus noticed he was sweating hard. Had he understood that right?  
  
"I don't think I understand what you're talking about, Sir. What. exactly. do you want me to do about that?"  
  
He sincerely hoped he hadn't heard right.  
  
"Oh, but you do understand, Finnigan." Black said. Seamus was sure he had never heard the man speak in such a cold voice. "I can take the responsibility for keeping them in a cell that is usually used for demand prisoners for two weeks, without any problems at all. After those two weeks, they need another place to stay, and that place, Finnigan, will definitely be a nice, grey cell in Askaban. Now. tragically. deaths of Askaban prisoners are the most normal thing in the world, as you surely know. Here I thought that if two of those. poor prisoners. died from the circumstances they are living under. before those two weeks are over. that would be very fortunate for us, don't you agree?"  
  
Seamus sprang up from the chair in horror and backed away from the desk, now standing nearby the door. He stupidly pointed at Black, shocked.  
  
"You. You want me to. to murder two people !? " he yelled.  
  
Sirius Black stood up now as well. "Calm down, boy, and come back here." He said forcefully. Once again he was glad he had that silence spell on his office, he was sure he wouldn't have appreciated what would have happened if somebody. or the whole Ministry. had heard Mr Finnigan there.  
  
Seamus Finnigan slowly approached Black again. He definitely didn't like what he was supposed to do, and he would refuse to. Seamus Finnigan was no murderer, and he would not become one. No.  
  
"You must see it the other way round, Finnigan." Black said.  
  
Seamus snorted in disgust. "I will not murder anyone, not even for the Ministry."  
  
Surprisingly, Black laughed. "Yes, I know that attitude towards work of that sort, but don't be a fool and at least hear me out, boy. Those two people will die anyway, no matter if you kill them or if I ask someone else to do it, and believe me, not many people here would be stupid enough to refuse the offer I'm about to make you."  
  
Seamus glared at him.  
  
"Think about it, Finnigan. What point is there in refusing? You will not save any lives with it, because they will be killed, believe me. If not by you, they will be killed by another. For those two ruddy prisoners there won't be any difference. But for you there will. If you refuse, Finnigan, I'll unfortunately see no other way than to fire you because of your disloyalty towards the Ministry. The other way around, if you accept. let's say there will be a bonus of 1000 Galleons a month for special services for the Ministry." Black said.  
  
Seamus gasped.  
  
1000 Galleons! That was a great deal of money, and 1000 Galleons a month. he'd be rich after a while. And Black had said they'd die anyway.  
  
Of course Seamus knew it was the wrong thing to do, but he could not prevent them from dying anyway, Black would make sure of that, Seamus knew. Someone had to kill them, so why not him? He'd lose his job if he didn't after all, and that was about the worst thing that could happen to him now. And what was the big deal, really? All Askaban prisoners were evil dark wizards, he'd only do the world a favour. And they'd die sooner or later anyway; not many could survive Askaban for long.  
  
Seamus Finnigan swallowed and looked up to meet the Deputy Minister's eyes.  
  
"I accept, sir."  
  
*** ++++++++++ ***  
  
Harry Potter smiled weakly. Ronny Longbottom, Leon Creevey and Martin Whitby had just given him and the class a detailed definition of the three Unforgivable Curses. He hadn't expected any less from those three, since Ronny's knowledge he had gained from his father was probably first hand, he had told his two friends all about it and Whitby had probably read about it in some book anyway.  
  
The class seemed terrified. Of course, they would all know by now that he was going to show them exactly what those curses looked like. All Gryffindors would know at least, from those three students he had told in 'detention'. And the Slytherins must at least suspect, from the look of their faces. Most students looked totally frightened or angry, but some Slytherins seemed. pleased. Strangely pleased. Harry didn't like that look of pleasure.  
  
"Thank you for your explanation of the Imperius Curse, Mr Whitby. Two points to Gryffindor." Harry said.  
  
Then he turned around and stared at the beetles on his desk. Suddenly one beetle grew to about ten times of its old height. Many girls screamed at the sight of that enormous beetle.  
  
"You can make those beetles grow by just looking at them?" Simon Zabini exclaimed. A look of horror appeared on his face when he realised he had just shouted that out loud in front of Evans.  
  
Harry Potter turned around and looked at his Slytherin student. "Yes, I can." He said calmly, much to the relieve of those who had expected him to be mad at the boy. "Now, watch me."  
  
Harry stood aside so every student could see the poor animal clearly. He pointed his arm at the beetle. "Imperio!" he said loudly. Harry didn't need to speak the words for the curse to work of course, but he wanted the kids to understand everything he was doing - that was the point of this after all.  
  
He watched as the terrified children stared at the beetle.  
  
"As you'll all have recognised by now of course, I just put the Imperius Curse on this animal. It is now fully under my control and will do anything I tell it to do. Got it?"  
  
A few nodded shortly, but never taking their eyes off the beetle.  
  
"Fine." Harry said, and then he demonstrated it. Harry made the beetle jump up and down for a while, then do a slow waltz. Some Slytherins grinned much to Harry's annoyance, but the Gryffindors' expressions didn't change at all. Finally Harry took the curse off.  
  
He took some deep breaths. Then: "Crucio!"  
  
***** ++++++++++ *****  
  
They were all in a bad mood when they entered the Runes classroom. still because of their previous lesson. They didn't even answer Professor Granger when she greeted them and it took her five full minutes to keep them from complaining about "That git", "Just dead!", "Terrible Curses!" and "He won't know what's hit him after my father is done with him!" s.  
  
"Silence!" Hermione Granger yelled, and since she yelled very rarely, peoples' heads finally jerked up and they noticed the presence of their teacher.  
  
"Would anyone please tell me what the hell is wrong with you today?" she said, not as loudly as before, but also still not as calmly as she usually was. That was because Hermione had a pretty good idea she knew exactly what was wrong after catching a few pieces of their conversations.  
  
"That Evans git just performed the three Unforgivable Curses! On a beetle! He did that to the second years, too, imagine that!" Susan Wood exclaimed.  
  
Hermione merrily nodded. "I know." She said.  
  
"You knew?!" Ronny exclaimed. Hermione had often wondered where that boy's temper might come from, for neither Ginny nor Neville was like that.  
  
"You knew he was gonna. do it. today and you didn't do anything to stop him? Why didn't you help us? You could at least have warned us, so we might have got ourselves into hospital wing in time! Anything but that git's lessons! He even said he'd make us try to fight the Imperius Curse soon, the Imperius Curse! Honestly, that man is insane, that's an Unforgivable, he's gonna place it on us! On his students! I swear, if Dumbledore doesn't remove that. Dark Wizard. from Hogwarts. and take him straight to Askaban, I'd suggest. I'll make sure my father arranges just that!"  
  
All other students nodded in agreement, but Professor Granger raised an eyebrow at them.  
  
"I don't think you know Professor Henry Evans well, Mr Longbottom, or you wouldn't be talking about him like that. For a fact, he didn't look forward to doing the Unforgivables in lesson as well, you know. Then I can assure you that your DADA Professor is certainly no Dark Wizard, more the opposite in fact: He used to chase Deathea. Dark Wizards, in the past. And, Mr Longbottom, you also seem to know very few about Askaban, or you'd hardly wish anyone to have to spend time at that. horrible place. Now, before you speak ill of people like that again, boy, better make sure you know what you're talking about. Also I'd like to remind you that you were just insulting a teacher of this school, and also one of my very best friends, in front of me, Hermione Granger, a Hogwarts Professor." Hermione spoke coldly, not even trying to hide her anger.  
  
Her students stared at her, stunned. Professor Granger was usually one of the most friendly teachers there were, and very rarely spoke in such a cold voice. But then, she was a friend of that git after all, of course she would support him.  
  
'What a very stupid thing to happen in front of Granger of all people.' Ronny thought. And he was right.  
  
"So, Mr Longbottom, let's see. " Hermione continued her sermon, "I shall take some points off Gryffindor for this, that much is sure. I say. ten points off for speaking ill of people in my classroom. ten points for insulting a Hogwarts staff member. and ten points for unacceptable stupidity. because Henry is my friend. Really, Longbottom, I am very disappointed in you."  
  
She paused. Then: "So, that would be thirty points off Gryffindor. Now class, let's come back to."  
  
"But. !" Leon Creevey protested loudly. Hermione looked at him.  
  
"Anything wrong, Mr Creevey?"  
  
"I."  
  
Leon knew since Granger was pretty angry he had to choose his words carefully, or he'd only make it worse. God, if only he hadn't said that out loud.  
  
"Professor, I. I think Ronny's punishment was not really.justified. He was, after all, still a bit. shocked. from DADA class, you know."  
  
Leon hoped this hadn't been a mistake. It had.  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
"I think you're right, Mr Creevey, the punishment did not really fit with that little outburst. I guess I'll have to come up with something better for Mr Longbottom here."  
  
Both Leon and Ronny sighed in relief.  
  
"So here we go." Professor Granger continued and Ronny watched her expectantly.  
  
"Thirty points off Gryffindor for the reasons you know already, Longbottom, and detention with dear Professor Evans. where I also want you to tell him why exactly you're there, I'm sure he'll be pretty interested in that. I'll tell him to meet you at his office after that. childish duel of his tonight."  
  
Hermione Granger turned around and wrote some boring ancient runes at the blackboard, like she usually did. as if nothing had happened, let alone she had just imposed one of the worst punishments imaginable on one of her students. Leon opened his mouth to start arguing with the angry professor, but he shut it again quickly when his friend Martin glared at him. Ronny didn't seem angry at him, but very depressed.  
  
Professor Hermione Granger held her class the way she usually did and it continued as if nothing had happened, only her students were a bit more quiet than usually.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
That evening there were only very few owls staying in the Hogwarts Owlery, which surprised everybody who noticed and didn't know the reason.  
  
Albus Dumbledore noticed.  
  
The students' owls had been sent home that afternoon after classes, the headmaster knew. Yes, he had watched tons of students from all houses write furious letters to their parents. And Albus Dumbledore though he knew very well why his students had wanted to write to their parents all of a sudden that day, and all at once as well. He was pretty sure the contents of those letter contained pretty awful complaints about a very good friend of his.  
  
This was one of the few situations that made Albus Dumbledore hope he was wrong.  
  
But of course he wasn't, he rarely was. * *  
  
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* Author's Note:  
  
So, that was that. The Duel, as I promised, will be part of the next chapter.  
  
Here I finally did, as some of you wanted, write a bit about what Sirius and Remus are doing in these days. I wouldn't be surprised if it came as a bit of a shock. But I promise it (they) will all turn out good in the end. Yet, if you want to bite my head off for this, feel free to do so, I like reviews. *grin*  
  
The owls, by the way, will come back next chapter, too.  
  
Anyway, what do you think about it? Are you mad at Seamus, do you feel sorry for him, or what about it? I need your reviews, they make my day!!!  
  
Thanks ever so much  
  
Ottilchen 


	18. Chapter 17: Loud breakfast and a duel

Chapter 17: Loud breakfast and a duel  
  
Next morning at breakfast, Harry noticed some people behaving strange. Harry had normal conversations with other staff members, mostly Hermione and Albus, though Albus was a bit more quiet than usually. He put that off his mind, deciding the man had probably just not slept enough last night. He found it a bit more suspicious, though, that his students. all of them, in some way. kept watching him. He noticed some students point at the huge windows of the Great Hall, then point at him and start giggling, or snickering gleefully. Like they were planning something.  
  
Harry most certainly didn't like it.  
  
"Something's going on there, Herm. Look at the kids, they're behaving. odd." He muttered.  
  
Hermione watched the students for a while. "They're pointing at you, Henry. I'm sorry to say that, mate, but to me it looks like they're up to something."  
  
"Yeah, I've noticed." Harry said shortly.  
  
"Nothing bad I hope." She whispered under her breathe. Harry heard though. He raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Bet it is?" he answered and turned back to his food.  
  
The mystery was not solved until the owl post came.  
  
The flock of owls that flew into the Hall was much larger than usually. even larger than in the first week after the holidays, when the parents sent their kids all the stuff they had forgotten at home. It was hundreds of owls, every single one carrying a letter, or even a small package. and most of the letters were red. Harry stared at them confused, still not realising what was going on. Those letters were Howlers, he knew. And so many. Why would so many students suddenly get howlers. and all at once? So many. it could not be many less owls than there were students in Hogwarts. Something was wrong.  
  
Harry finally realised what was wrong when, after flying a few circles through the Hall, the owls suddenly all rushed at him with pretty fast speed.  
  
The students. all the students. stared at him, giggling, sneering, pointing and laughing at him, waiting for that git to react.  
  
The owls were about to reach him. Shit. Harry quickly ducked under the table, ignoring the roars of laugher. Touching his temples with his fingertips, he performed a shielding charm. It was not a very strong one, but the best he had managed to think of and perform in those few seconds. He hoped the charm would serve its purposes and block whatever those owls would bring him. Because Harry was sure all those Howlers weren't the worst things they carried.  
  
The Howlers exploded nearly all at once, and if people had not clasped their hands over their ears fast, they would not have been able to hear fully for days. Luckily, everyone did.  
  
In the row, Harry could not understand everything that was said. yelled. by his students' parents, but what he made out was enough to make him furious himself. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, TEACHING YOUR STUDENTS THE UNFORGIVABLES, THEY'RE ONLY KIDS, THEY SHOULD NOT EVEN KNOW ABOUT THOSE DEADLY CURSES!!! THEY'LL PROBABLY HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT YOUR TRAUMATIC LESSONS FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES!!!"  
  
"MY DAUGHTER WROTE ME THAT YOU PERFORMED THE DARKEST MAGIC IN FRONT OF YOUR STUDENTS' EYES, EVANS! ARE YOU INSANE, MAN? THE POOR CHILDREN MIGHT NEVER RECOVER FROM SEEING YOU DOING THIS! I DUNNO WHY DUMBLEDORE LETS YOU DO THIS, YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE ALLOWED TO TEACH! I HOPE SOMEDAY PEOPLE WILL THROW YOU INTO THE DIRTIEST AZKABAN CELL, BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE YOU BELONG!"  
  
'That's where I come from, and I sure as hell won't return there. Besides, no, I'm not insane!' Harry thought angrily at the mention of Askaban, his prison for many years.  
  
BOOM!  
  
One of those packages exploded, a small one luckily. Harry looked up and saw a blue lightning bolt zoom towards him. It looked pretty weak, so Harry didn't do anything. The curse bounced off from the shield.  
  
Harry smiled grimly. At least that worked.  
  
BOOM!  
  
Another of those darn packages, a bigger one this time. Several curses. Harry dodged, blocked, or let his shield do its work.  
  
"I SENT MY LITTLE GIRL HERE BECAUSE I EXPECTED YOU TO TEACH HER PROPER MAGIC, NOT THE DARK CURSES YOU ARE SHOWING HER HERE!!! THE MAGIC THAT PEOPLE LEARN AT DURMSTRANG CAN'T POSSIBLY BE DARKER THAN WHAT YOU ARE DOING HERE! MY POOR GIRL, SHE'S ONLY A FIRST YEAR! YOU BETTER STOP USING UNFORGIVABLES IN YOUR LESSONS OR I'LL TAKE HER OFF THIS SCHOOL!!!"  
  
BOOM!  
  
Curses. Harry dodged most, then he let his shield work. He was getting tired of this.  
  
"YOU STUPID BASTARD."  
  
"THE POOR CHILDREN."  
  
BOOM!  
  
"THE AURORS ARE BUSILY FIGHTING THE DARK AND WHAT ARE YOU TEACHING OUR KIDS AT SCHOOL?!!!"  
  
"MY SON WILL BE HAVING NIGHTMARES BECAUSE OF YOUR BLOODY LESSONS."  
  
BOOM!  
  
An extra large package. Many curses. Strong curses.  
  
None bounced off from the table. Harry could not dodge all of them. He blocked most, let two or three hit his shield. They did bounce off, but destroyed his little shield in the process.  
  
Shit.  
  
"BLOODY IDIOT!"  
  
"STUPID ASS!"  
  
BOOM!  
  
Again he couldn't dodge. Some only hit the table. Others Harry blocked. Almost all of them. One hit him. Freezing charm. Didn't matter much; easy to shake off.  
  
"YOU SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO TEACH."  
  
BOOM!  
  
No curses hit. Luck.  
  
Harry hastily crawled out from under the table. Now the table couldn't hold off any curses anymore, but it was easier to dodge them.  
  
BOOM!  
  
Only one weak curse. Harry blocked easily.  
  
"STOP YOUR DARK CURSES!!!"  
  
"YOU'RE A DANGER TO THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU."  
  
BOOM!  
  
Many strong curses. Harry dodged all by throwing himself flat onto the floor.  
  
"YOU SHOULD BE LOCKED AWAY IN ASKABAN!!!"  
  
Harry quickly jumped up again, expecting the next curses to come any moment. They didn't. There were no more curses. No more Howlers.  
  
Finally silence.  
  
Harry was breathing hard and sweating a bit. His ears were ringing from the unbearable racket the Howlers had made. He stared at his students. His students stared at him. Most were grinning like mad and trying to hold back laugher. Harry's anger grew.  
  
"That was only a fair punishment for what you are doing to us!" Someone from the very back of the Gryffindor table shouted. The rest of the Great Hall cheered in agreement.  
  
"Sure!" somebody yelled.  
  
"Yeah, you deserved that!"  
  
More cheers.  
  
Harry was shaking with anger.  
  
"I deserve this? For what, if I may ask?" Harry yelled furiously.  
  
The Great Hall was silent immediately.  
  
"Do you think I'm doing this for fun? Do you think I like this? I'm not a Dark Wizard! Those stupid Unforgivables have ruined quite a large part of my life, and you have no clue how much time I spent hunting after Dark Wizards, trying to stop their actions! You have no right to claim me one of them when you have not the slightest bit of an idea who I really am! This is a dark time we are living in, you as well as me. All I am trying to do is to show you part of what you might me up against in future. All you have to do is watch the effects of those darn things! Fine, I might want you to try and break the Imperius soon, but I will not harm you! Don't you understand? It's absolutely safe for you! You are complaining I make you see them, I'm the evil teacher, yeah, sure! But do you have any idea how I feel in all of this? You hate seeing them, well, what do you think I feel while casting them? I hate those lessons even more than you do, but I know it's necessary! I'm only doing this for you to be prepared, okay? So you better stop hating me for it!!!" he shouted angrily. Harry tried to calm down, while the whole Hall was watching him in utter silence.  
  
"Please don't blame me for this time's darkness, I can assure you it's not me who's causing it." He said, much less loudly.  
  
With that Harry strode straight past the students tables and out of the Great Hall, ignoring the students and teachers that were staring at him with shock, and respect.  
  
***** ++++++++++ *****  
  
At supper that day, Harry Potter was unusually quiet, not to say depressed. Understandable, Hermione thought, since she knew Harry, she knew what Harry had just done and was still not finished with yet, and she knew how much her friend hated the Unforgivable Curses, both receiving them and casting them.  
  
"That bad?" she asked.  
  
"You heard the Howlers." He stated shortly. "And I meant what I said afterwards. about casting those blasted things."  
  
"Come on, Henry, you need to finally stop thinking about those. lessons of yours, you're doing the right thing, you've got a good reason to do so, not to mention an order from Albus. You know that as well as I do. So cheer up. That duel of yours - which by the way is the most stupid, silly and childish thing I've seen you do in years - will be a lot harder to take if you're in such a bad mood."  
  
"Yes, another thing to worry about, just what I need. Thanks, Herm." Harry grunted sarcastically.  
  
'Fine, now you're letting it out on me.' Hermione thought, but didn't say a thing. In fact, neither of the staff talked much that lunch, all thinking about the spectacular breakfast, thinking about that Evans vs. Malfoy duel they were about to see, or having something else on their mind. Malfoy was known to be an extraordinarily skilled dueller and Evans was rumoured to be very powerful, though nobody was so sure about that.  
  
***** ++++++++++ *****  
  
The Quidditch stands were as full of students as they were at any Quidditch match, if not even more so. All students were laughing and chatting cheerfully, waiting for the two with most children pretty unpopular teachers to duel each other. Most had not seen a real duel before, so this would surely be interesting, and no matter who lost that duel, he would deserve it.  
  
"We might be lucky and they'll send each other to Hospital Wing for a few weeks. I don't think I'd miss either of them or their lessons. " Ronny Longbottom told his friend. The three of them had already gone their in the middle of supper to gather some comfortable seats with good sight on the duellers.  
  
Leon and Martin snorted in agreement.  
  
Then Dumbledore rose and made what could be considered an announcement, having his voice magically made louder:  
  
"Welcome, dear students, to this - childish, pointless and hopefully last ever - duel between two honourable members of Hogwarts' staff. The first thing I want you to know at this occasion is that if your dear Professor Granger here had not insisted that you could learn some important things about duelling from those two prats down there, " he said and motioned at Harry and Draco, who were already standing down on the pitch, "I would not have dreamt of allowing my students to witness this excellent example of little boys' stupidity. That's just so you know who to complain to afterwards, only in case you see something worth complaining of course, which is, as far as I know the professors Malfoy and Evans, not that unlikely at all."  
  
Next to him, Hermione grinned hugely.  
  
"Then, due to the learning purpose we have put behind this, I asked your two teachers to put a 'Sonorus' charm onto themselves, which they did, so you will know what they are doing. Of course they must not always speak a curse they use out loud, so the opponent will not know which one it is that easily. Then, but that should go without saying: This is no life-and-death fight, so the duellers will not use any Unforgivables or try to do serious damage in any other way, do not worry about that. "  
  
He paused.  
  
"Well, I have nothing else to say, so if you all agree, I'd like this childish fight to begin. I want fair duel, men."  
  
'Quietus!' Albus thought and sat down again.  
  
It took them a while to react, but soon the Quidditch stands were full of cheers and applause.  
  
***** ++++++++++ *****  
  
Harry Potter might not have shown it, but he was enjoying himself. Of course he wouldn't seriously hurt Malfoy, but he'd make sure he'd have his fun with his rival. It had not been him who'd insisted on that duel, after all. And he was sure the duel would be an unfair one. But he had every right to let out what he had. Malfoy wanted this, Malfoy would get what he wanted.  
  
Draco Malfoy, standing about ten meters from him, was smiling. Harry had never liked that smile. It looked so. well, slimy.  
  
"Confident in your great powers, Evans?" asked Malfoy.  
  
Harry grinned. "Naturally, I always am. How about you, Malfoy? I heard you were well known for your duelling skills."  
  
"You'll see." Malfoy smirked and bowed. Harry did the same.  
  
"Do you know what the usually most effective, but yet also one of the most simple curses used in such a duel is, Evans?"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
Malfoy sneered. "Well, of course you wouldn't. Didn't expect you to know, in fact. You dunno much about duelling at all, do you, Evans?"  
  
"What makes you think so?"  
  
"The fact that you haven't shot a single curse at me yet, for example."  
  
"Neither have you, Malfoy, in case you have forgotten. And because you are so determined to show me how to duel properly tonight, I am waiting for you to show me that very effective but yet simple curse of yours, I'm really curious what that would be."  
  
"I can show you. Expelliarmus!" Malfoy yelled, and Harry saw the bright light of the curse shoot towards him fast. 'Okay', he thought, 'I must admit, Malfoy, you do seem to be a pretty good dueller, you are fast. Still I won't give you a chance.'  
  
Harry did not block or dodge the curse, though he wouldn't have had any problems doing so.  
  
Many students cheered as the curse hit their loathed DADA teacher, though surprise took over happiness and gloating as they saw the curse didn't seem to have had any effect on Evans.  
  
Absolutely nothing had happened.  
  
Harry laughed out loud at the look on the face of his rival. "Surprised, Malfoy? Well, what did you expect that curse to do? If your opponent is not armed, there are no weapons for that curse to take, ever thought of that?" Harry asked.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Well, dear Mr Malfoy, very effective curse indeed." He muttered, but thanks to the 'Sonorus' charm, everybody heard.  
  
"So you are wand-less?" Malfoy asked stupidly.  
  
"100 points to Slytherins." Harry sneered.  
  
Malfoy looked dumbfounded. "You are trying to. duel me. me, of all people. wandlessly?" Malfoy started laughing loud.  
  
"That's the reason I'm here, yes. And why, Malfoy, is that so funny?"  
  
"Wandless magic is not easy to control, if you even manage to come up with some, that is. and you think you can duel me. with this great disadvantage.! You. you don't know who you're duelling, Evans."  
  
Harry grinned. "You don't know either. Believe me, Malfoy, you have no clue who you are duelling."  
  
"Let's get properly started then, shall we?"  
  
"I don't see why not."  
  
Harry abruptly stopped talking as he saw a light. coming out of nowhere, it seemed. Giving a little yelp of surprise, he quickly sprang aside, and only just managed to dodge the curse.  
  
"Wow, Malfoy, that was pretty advanced magic! I didn't expect that from you." Harry said. He knew that curse. An invisible weakening curse, usually used for defence. Harry remembered being taught it in seventh year. He grinned. He had got it right pretty soon. Just what exactly had the incantation been. ? .!  
  
"And I didn't expect you to dodge it, Evans. Congratulations, boy. I'd say you're. almost up to first-year standards now. Really well done." Malfoy sneered.  
  
The Slytherins laughed, and most of the other students also seemed to be enjoying themselves. Harry waited for the noise to die down before he replied:  
  
"Well, Malfoy, it honestly might have worked if you had cast it properly... assuming I was unable to shake it off. And I wasn't supposed to see it coming, was I? You might want to work on that a bit more before you present it in public. I think you almost got it right, you know, you just need to concentrate more. But there's no need to worry, not many people can cast it, as far as I remember. You know."  
  
Suddenly, Malfoy let out a small scream. The gazes of every single student and staff member gathered in the stands were on him very quickly. The blonde teacher flew into the air and found himself landing painfully on his bottom soon afterwards, unable to stand up again.  
  
"This, Malfoy, is what it is supposed to look like. And to feel like, I believe. I get it you are weakened?"  
  
Now mostly Gryffindors cheered. Not like they didn't begrudge Evans the pleasant feeling of gloating, which of course they did, but seeing their greatly disliked git of a Potions Master lying on the floor helplessly struggling to get up was just one of the finest memories from Hogwarts they'd ever get. They'd make sure people would still hear about this years later.  
  
Suddenly, a quiet 'click' could be heard from Leon Creevey, who was sitting in one of the top seats in the Gryffindor stands, next to his two best friends. Seeing them turn to him in surprise, he held up a small, old looking black box, which, as they looked closer, turned out a camera.  
  
"Well, " the boy explained, "the camera belongs to my dad, and he insists that I take it to school every bloody year. he's been some sort of photo freak in his youth, you know. still is, as far as I'm concerned. that's where the hundreds of photo albums at our house come from, I'm sure you have noticed. anyway, he always says I'd find it useful one day."  
  
Then he grinned. "I must admit, today is the first time I really do."  
  
After a bit of shocked surprise at the discovery of Mr Colin Creevey's serious addiction for photos, the two boys chuckled shortly, then turned their attention back to the two duellers down on the grass.  
  
Down at the pitch, Draco Malfoy slowly stood up from the ground. God, he felt so weak. The man expected the 'Stupefy' curse to hit him anytime. The curse that would bring Evans victory, the curse that would make him lose his duel. Make himself, as far as he was concerned, lose some of his pride. at least for a while he wouldn't be able to look Evans in the eyes. But the 'Stupefy' curse didn't come. In fact, no curse came before he was safely on his feet again. Then, the first thing Evans shot was some distraction charm, which was very weak, and also slow, so Malfoy dodged it without any problems. His opinion of Evans' duelling skills sank lower.  
  
"You might not have noticed this, fool, but you could just have cursed me. You had seconds, Evans, seconds, if you know what that means. Do you know what a proper dueller would have done in those very few seconds? Anyone but you would have used that for his advantage. Yet all you managed was one of the weakest distraction charms I've ever come across, when it was already too late. Really, are you sure you know what you are doing?" Malfoy sneered.  
  
Laugher from the stands.  
  
"I am, git." Harry spat back. It was instantly silent again. Nobody wanted to miss much of this interesting conversation. You didn't witness two of the worst teachers you had bite each other's heads of every day after all. Evan if it still was mostly verbally.  
  
Harry was slowly getting mad at Malfoy.  
  
"I don't know what you consider a proper dueller, Malfoy, but as far as I am concerned a proper dueller must have morals. And a person with morals would never curse his opponent while he was lying on the ground, unless of course in a life-and-death fight. Me waiting for you to stand up, Malfoy, " he said, and fixed the other man with a piercing gaze, "was neither weakness nor stupidity of mine, but morals, and perhaps something you could call. mercy."  
  
Draco Malfoy snorted. "Do you think I, Draco Malfoy, need you, an inexperienced fool, to actually. have mercy with me in a duel? That's just ridiculous, Evans!"  
  
Harry grinned mischievously. "Is it? We'll see, Malfoy. Pretty soon, in fact, as I'm growing tired of this pointless conversation of ours. I can talk to you pretty much any time I want, now this is one of my rare chances to hex your slimy face. I think I'll use it, shouldn't I?"  
  
Then, he began.  
  
The watchers' gasps and yelps could probably be heard up in Hogwarts even, but of course they were nothing compared to the noise Harry's 'victim' made.  
  
Draco Malfoy tried to keep from screaming as he was flying through the air like a balloon with a hole. Soon he lost his little battle of self-control, though.  
  
"Hey, Malfoy. I remember you telling me how hard it is to control wand-less magic." Evans stated.  
  
"S. So?" Malfoy replied, trying to sound braver than he felt.  
  
"Well, I honestly think you are right, man because. because." suddenly Evans voice sounded panicked. "I. Oh no, I'm losing control. Noooo!!!"  
  
Malfoy flew through the sky, so wild. faster and faster. higher and higher. dangerously high. he could barely look down anymore.  
  
"I. Malfoy. Oh my God, Malfoy. I think. God, I really think that. that I'm gonna drop you, Malfoy!!!"  
  
And it seemed he really did.  
  
Malfoy screamed like hell as Evans had him fly straight towards the ground, headfirst, with insane speed. and getting faster. the ground approached. damned Evans.. he'd hit. damned wand-less magic. he'd die. anytime soon now.  
  
Evans pulled him out of it barely inches above the ground. Malfoy didn't know how Evans was doing this, but that didn't make like his situation any better. only worse. What was a mad Professor Henry Evans capable of - when he had every right to do anything he wanted, except for Unforgivables of course - in this duel? And it was obvious he would not be easy to stop.  
  
Malfoy couldn't help but yell at his opponent:  
  
"Evans, what. are you doing? I. you're insane! He's. insane! Someone stop that man!"  
  
But Harry only laughed. "What I'm doing you wanna know? Well, what does it look like?" Then he looked at the stands. "Aah, sure, I'm supposed to tell you, huh? Well, folks, in fact I'm not exactly sure myself, to tell the truth. I'm just imagining the results and letting my magic do the rest, that's a form of how wand-less magic can work. But it feels a lot like levitating things, with that simple curse you learn in first year. 'Wingardium Leviosa'."  
  
Despite of the 'Sonorus' charm he had to yell for people to hear it, since Malfoy's shouts had become so loud. as loud as shouting through a Sonorus charm always was. With a wave of his hand, Harry ended the screams.  
  
"Much better, isn't it? Now, I promise I'll use. proper curses. from now on only, and I'll tell you exactly what I'm doing, okay?"  
  
A moment of shocked silence, then cheers from everywhere, even some from the Slytherins.  
  
Harry grinned. "I knew you'd agree this is fun."  
  
Then he looked at Malfoy, and for the first time noticed something.  
  
"Hey, Malfoy, why aren't you defending yourself, by the way?"  
  
He watched Malfoy try but fail to speak.  
  
"Aah, sure." Harry waved his hand again.  
  
"Because, Evans, my wand is lying on the ground, where I unfortunately cannot reach it!" he yelled furiously, and because of the 'Sonorus' charm most watchers quickly clapped their hands over their ears.  
  
"Oh, that is a problem indeed. well, for you anyway, Malfoy. and what do we learn from this?" Harry asked, looking up at the stands. If he got answers, he couldn't hear them because of the distance. "We learn, my dear students, that you should always have a firm grip on your wand, in case some crazy guy decides to toy around with you. like this." Harry teased, but didn't do anything about Malfoy's hopeless position.  
  
So, after some minutes, Draco Malfoy found himself still in the air, but singing 'We wish you a merry Christmas', clapping his hands perfectly on beat. His hair was golden and scarlet, Gryffindor colours, and his clothing blinked in all kind of colours imaginable. The Gryffindors were bawling with gloating, and most of the other students felt the same way. Some Slytherins felt hurt in pride, others were busily fighting down laugher. Even the teachers couldn't keep from grinning. Finally, Harry took the curses off, except for the Gryffindor hair, and let his rival back to the ground.  
  
Once released from the levitation, Malfoy rushed to pick up his wand immediately and started shooting tons of curses at Harry, and no harmless ones. Yet, Harry had no problems either dodging or blocking every single one of them, which only made Malfoy more furious.  
  
"Mind if I leave those new hair colours where they are, Malfoy? They look good on you!"  
  
"Shut up!" the thundering response.  
  
More curses. Harry blocked most, some he dodged. None hit him of course.  
  
"Wow, Malfoy your fit of rage here produces pretty fast curses, do you know that? I must admit I'm getting exhausted. In fact, I don't think I've taken part in such a strenuous exchange of curses for. years."  
  
More curses.  
  
"That was meant as a compliment, you know, not a reason for further attacks."  
  
Nothing but curses.  
  
"Mind if I finish this up?"  
  
No change.  
  
"Stupefy!" Harry yelled. Malfoy fell. No more curses.  
  
The duel was over.  
  
+ + + + + + + +  
  
Author's Note:  
  
So, that was that. the duel you've all been waiting for. and the owls returning. I wrote that duel, rewrote it. changed a sentence here and there, you know. now this was the result, and I hope you are satisfied, I did my best!  
  
Thanks for reading, everyone!!!  
  
Ottilchen 


	19. Chapter 18: Hogsmeade, bathroom visit an...

Chapter 18: Hogsmeade, bathroom visit and midnight talk  
  
Ronny Longbottom was standing at the front door of Evans' private chamber, not daring to knock or make himself noticed in any other way. Today he and the rest of the school had witnessed a demonstration of the teacher's power, and he had to admit it was no less great than Martin had predicted. Naturally he was looking forward to a large 'Colourful Malfoy singing Christmas carols in the air' poster hanging in their common room, and they would make sure there would be one; Leon had taken more than enough photos of the scene after all, but the duel had also increased Ronny's - and he now admitted that openly, at least to himself - fear of Evans. He dreaded the man's reaction when he, Ronny, would now have to tell him the reason he had got himself that detention. He hoped he wouldn't be turned into a newt or something similar. or something worse. But then he thought, perhaps, if Evans didn't know about it yet, why would he have to tell him the truth? Evans' detention would be horrible enough without him knowing about the reason. He just wouldn't mention it at all, or, if Evans asked, he could make something up. like "I forgot to translate a text for homework". No, he'd come up with something better. more believable. But not the truth. Certainly not the truth. He didn't like the idea of himself flying through the air, looking like some clown and doing God knows what. Most likely, Evans would even shoot some photos and sell them to the Slytherins. No, that must not happen. Ronny liked to consider himself a person with morals. at least a few. but this time, sticking to the truth would be like committing suicide. He would live.  
  
'Let's get this over with.' He thought and knocked. Soon, a strangely cheerful looking Henry Evans opened him, the green snake that originally had been meant to be a frightening prank but now was kind of a pet was like usually hanging around his neck, asleep at the moment. His teacher looked surprised.  
  
"Mr Longbottom! I must say I'm pretty surprised to find you here."  
  
Ronny swallowed. "I. was given detention with you, sir. I was told to meet you. here, after your duel."  
  
"Is that so? Strange I know nothing about it. Well, come in anyway."  
  
Harry had not expected the boy. A pity it was, really. He had planned a nice evening in Hogsmeade with Hermione, chatting and having a few good butterbeers. But of course he couldn't just let Ronny go, punishing him was his job, his duty. But, he thought, detention didn't mean plain punishment, did it? Perhaps he could find a more pleasant way to spend the evening, for both himself and the boy.  
  
"Herm, Ronny Longbottom is here for detention, hope you don't mind his company." Harry called.  
  
Beside him, Ronny paled.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
Draco Malfoy spent most of the night in his bathroom, trying to get those darn Gryffindor colours off his hair. Of course he wouldn't just wait for it to grow out. He'd find a way to make it vanish. Of course that was possible. He had to do something.  
  
But he had done nothing but try to get that stuff out for hours, and he had tried everything he could think of. That damned git just had too much power.  
  
He was busy spreading some white cleaning stuff that he had taken from Filch's office over his hair, hoping that it would get that colour out, when he heard a cold voice from behind, that made him panic inside. On the outside, he tried to appear cool of course.  
  
"I don't appreciate my servants running around with Gryffindor colours in their hair, Malfoy. Or is that some sort of new fashion?"  
  
The Dark Lord.  
  
This was probably the worst scene his master could have appeared in. Yes, Draco had been warned. His master had said he'd come to check on him anytime he wanted, so he should get on with his task quickly. Yes, his task - finding Harry Potter. Though Draco had absolutely no clue where on this damned big planet that Potter prat could be. Also he did not know how on earth he was supposed to find out.  
  
He slowly turned around to face his master.  
  
Of course Lord Voldemort was not really there, even the Dark Lord could not just apparate in Hogwarts. But it was an imagine of his head in mid-air, and that alone was terrifying enough. It worked just the way it did with normal wizards, only that Voldemort did not need a fireplace, or floo- powder, or even a wall. All the Dark Lord needed was himself and some free space to put his snake-like head into.  
  
"My Lord." Malfoy said in greeting as he let himself fall to one knee. "Please have mercy, master, and forgive my look; it was some childish prank and I was about to undo it."  
  
A cold, short laugh. "Have mercy and forgive you, Malfoy? Do you think you deserve that? I hope, my dear servant, that you know if it was possible you'd be rolling on the floor under a Cruciatus curse."  
  
"Of course, my Lord." Malfoy muttered.  
  
"Tell me then, Malfoy, how come some foolish, little students manage to put Gryffindor colours into a Deatheater's hair? Are my servants that weak, Malfoy?"  
  
"I. it was no students, but a fellow teacher, master."  
  
"A fellow teacher cursed you? Tut, tut, tut. doesn't Dumbledore that fool have his staff under control anymore? Tell me, Malfoy. who was it? And why did that person curse you? Even more important: What did you do to him in return? We cannot have people curse my loyal followers and get away with it." his master sneered.  
  
Draco Malfoy knew there was no point in lying to the Dark Lord.  
  
"It was the new Defence teacher, my Lord. his name is Henry Evans. We had a duel."  
  
"So you killed him?" Voldemort asked, sounding a bit pleased.  
  
"No, master. it was no life-and-death duel. just for pride."  
  
"Ah, I understand. So that. Henry Evans, you said?. gave you that Gryffindor hair in a pride duel. Say, Malfoy, what did you do to him? What does he look like now?"  
  
Draco Malfoy didn't answer. He decided it was wiser not to say anything, than to tell Lord Voldemort he had not managed to put any curses onto his opponent successfully.  
  
"Oh, I see." Voldemort spat. "And you will be properly punished at our next meeting, just so you know, Malfoy. And have a closer look on that colleague of yours, if he is such a good dueller."  
  
"Yes, master." Malfoy whispered.  
  
"Good. Now, the reason I have come: What have you found out about Potter?"  
  
No answer again.  
  
"Well, Malfoy, to tell the truth, I had expected that. Which doesn't make me any less disappointed of course."  
  
Malfoy only nodded.  
  
"See that you get to work faster on that, it's important that Potter gets out of the way soon, he is one of the main enemies and we must not underestimate him. And avoid too many mistakes, Malfoy, or you will take the consequences."  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Malfoy said, but the head had already vanished.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
Hermione swore under her breath.  
  
"So this is the end of our snug little Hogsmeade evening." She said as Harry came in with the student. "I'm really sorry, Henry. I would have told you of course, but I forgot all about the boy."  
  
"So you gave him that detention?"  
  
"Yeah, obviously."  
  
Ronny watched Evans just stare at Granger for a while, then break into a grin.  
  
"What, you gave him detention and sent him to me? Too lazy to punish him yourself, Herm? This is not the Hermione Granger I know." Harry laughed.  
  
Herm grinned back. "I had my reasons."  
  
"Aah, I understand. Now, what could this. innocent little boy." Harry said with a look at Ronny "possibly have done that is so bad he deserves detention with evil Professor Evans, that awful Dark Wizard?"  
  
Ronny looked down. Evans' outburst that morning after all those Howlers had left an impression on him, as on every other student. Evans had told them. yelled at them. that they had no right to hate him because of those darn Unforgivables, since he wasn't doing it for fun, but for them to be prepared.  
  
Evans was not evil, Evans was no Dark Wizard. He was only a poor guy who had to force himself to cast the worst curses imaginable. Ronny knew that now. And at that point, as strange as it was, Ronny really felt sorry for the man, no matter how much of a git he seemed to be sometimes.  
  
Yet, even though Ronny was convinced Evans was not evil, he found him fairly dangerous, after the power he had shown in the duel. He decided that he'd do anything not to cross the man. what he was apparently just doing. Just great.  
  
Granger spoke again.  
  
"I didn't do that because I thought you'd punish him harder, but because I thought you had a right to know what he did, and a right to punish him as you saw fit."  
  
"So he did something concerning me, I get it?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
Ronny still only stared at the floor, not daring to look up or say anything. But he hated people, especially teachers, talking about him in the 3. Person when he was standing directly next to them.  
  
"And you haven't punished him yet?"  
  
At that, Hermione looked at the boy.  
  
"I did." She admitted. "I took points off. But I don't exactly remember. how many points did I take off for that, Mr Longbottom? Do you remember?"  
  
Of course Ronny did. He thought he wouldn't ever forget the results of that lesson.  
  
"You took thirty points off Gryffindor, Professor." He muttered, taking his gaze up from the floor for the first time.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You took off thirty points? I thought you rarely took off any, and not much. And now thirty? And this detention?" he turned to Ronny. "You must have got her really angry, boy. What the hell did you do?"  
  
Ronny swallowed. Now it was time to tell. He wondered how Evans would react. He'd probably be furious. But he had a right to be, Ronny thought. It was not Evans' fault at all.  
  
The boy looked from Evans to Granger, and back to Evans. "I. I said. I said a few things, that."  
  
"Wait." Granger suddenly interrupted. "I don't want to influence your poor victim's confession in any way, Henry, so I'll leave the two of you alone. I suppose you'll still come to Hogsmeade when you're done here, Henry? Cause if that is so, I'll wait at the Three Broomsticks."  
  
"Yeah, sure. See you then!" Harry said, smiling.  
  
"Bye!" Hermione called and left.  
  
Harry turned to sit down on that bright green sofa his living room was famous for among Ronny and his friends. He motioned Ronny to get seated in an armchair that stood directly opposite of the sofa, so Ronny would be facing his teacher. The boy nodded and sat down. He was not even surprised anymore as Evans waved his hand once and the armchair moved itself very close to the sofa indeed. It was an unpleasant feeling, Ronny thought.  
  
"So, Mr. Longbottom. what did you say to make my friend that angry? Because she's usually a very patient person."  
  
Ronny swallowed again and suppressed a shiver as he felt the man's gaze bore into him. He knew if he looked up now he'd meet Evans' eyes, so he still kept his eyes down. Evans seemed to be in a good mood, he thought, but that would change soon. And there would surely be no point in lying, since Granger and Evans were good friends. Ronny was certain if he didn't tell her about this conversation of theirs on his own account, she would ask him about it. So he'd rather tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth than get into further trouble. With one last 'Here goes nothing' thought, he began.  
  
"I. I said. that you were. an. an insane git. for doing Unforgivables in class. and for planning to put the Imperius Curse on us. and that. that Dumbledore should. remove you from this school and. take you straight to. to. Askaban." Ronny confessed, ending in not much above a whisper.  
  
So, it was out. Now whatever horrible way Evans would choose to punish him would come, Ronny thought. But it didn't come. After a while of painful silence Ronny looked up, expecting to meet the cold glare of his teacher, or worse.  
  
But Evans was only sitting there, his head in his hands, staring at the floor so Ronny couldn't read his expression. When he finally looked up, there did not seem much anger in his eyes, but disappointment. Ronny was a bit confused.  
  
"So, Longbottom. do you really think I am what you claimed me to be in Runes lesson yesterday? Do you believe what you told Herm and your classmates?" the teacher asked quietly.  
  
Ronny swallowed again. It had become an annoying habit to swallow while facing Evans in situations like this one, he thought. Then he answered, stuttering: "I. I did. but not anymore, sir."  
  
"Not anymore?" Evans asked and moved his face so close to Ronny the boy could feel his breath.  
  
Ronny gave a short nod.  
  
"Why is that?" the next question came.  
  
"Because." Ronny felt himself swallowing again. "Because of what you did. what you said. this morning."  
  
"Was that little. outburst of mine. so impressive?" Harry asked, giving a slight smile. "That was, in fact, nothing but a scream of rage in the heat of passion, to tell the truth. but I am glad it had those effects of course."  
  
A moment of silence.  
  
Finally, Harry spoke again: "Is that all you want to say about that, Mr Longbottom?"  
  
Ronny nodded.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "And you are sure?"  
  
Ronny met his gaze. What more was there to say? He had confessed everything he had said in that damned lesson. every detail even. and that what he had been sent here for, wasn't it? He had done everything there was to do. now he only had to wait for the punishment.  
  
"Yes, sir, that's all I have to say."  
  
Harry waited for a moment. "Alright then." He finally said.  
  
Ronny looked up, hope arising in him. "Alright, you say? Does that mean I may go?"  
  
Harry stared at him for a moment, surprised to say the least. "Go? Me let you go?" he laughed. "Boy, still not got used to me, have you? No, I'm not gonna let you go, of course not. As sorry as I am for you, you'll have to spend the evening with me. But relax, kid, we're only going to Hogsmeade, Hermione is waiting for me there, remember?"  
  
He must have read the sour expression on Ronny's face, because he added with a smile of amusement: "Oh, if that doesn't suit your wishes, just wait here, will you, while I'm calling our dear old caretaker, Mr Filch, he might know a better way for you to spend the evening. You know, boy, he always comes up with new things. yes, leave it to Argus Filch to find a fitting punishment."  
  
Ronny looked and felt shocked. "No! He'll. I mean. of course I would like to join you and Granger. Professor Granger I mean. in Hogsmeade, sir!" he said quickly.  
  
Harry grinned. "I thought you would. Let's get going then, shall we?"  
  
So they did.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
"Then, as he ran to the front gate. can you imagine that, the front gate, where there's a huge security group of aurors. such a fool. anyway, my dad happened to be there, talking to one of the security men, and dad hit that ruddy prisoner with a stunning spell." Ronny said.  
  
The three of them were sitting in the Three Broomsticks, having a few butterbeers, and chatting away happily. Ronny was just talking about how his father had once stopped an Askaban prisoner from breaking out. He seemed to have forgotten that he was talking to teachers, one of whom was probably the most powerful staff member at Hogwarts. Of course, drinking butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks was nothing like the things people usually did for detention. At first, Ronny had been a bit awkward at the odd behaviour of those two. Evans and Granger acted nothing like they did in lesson, and that evening they were but cool people to chat and have fun with. The evening had started with Ronny just staring, astonished, as the teachers told stories and laughed at each other, then the boy had started to give a comment every now and then, later he'd really become part of the conversation, without even really noticing.  
  
"Wow, that's really not the smartest way to break out of Askaban." Granger said.  
  
"Yeah, I agree." Evans chuckled. "I wouldn't have chosen the front gate either."  
  
'I flew out of that hell straight above the wall. Easy enough.' He thought to himself, grinning a bit more.  
  
"Anyway, my dad says Askaban is awfully safe, and I agree with him." Ronny said.  
  
"Well.", Granger replied, "Obviously it's not safe enough, is it? When two people have already escaped."  
  
Harry rose an eyebrow at her, meaning 'I don't like where this conversation is leading, so don't push it, please.' Hermione caught on and quickly turned away, taking another sip of her drink. But Ronny had got into the new subject already.  
  
"Aah. sure. Minister Black."  
  
"Minister?" Harry interrupted. "I thought Fudge was Minister, and Si. Black." he quickly corrected, "was only Deputy."  
  
"Aah, sure." Ronny explained importantly, "But if you knew more about the Ministry, you'd know that, in fact, Black is the one that has the responsibility and makes the important decisions. Fudge that fool only sets his signature under the documents so it'll look good in public eye, while Black secretly has control over everything. My father knows him well, and he secretly refers to him as the 'Minister', which is the only right thing to do, for Fudge is too incompetent anyway. well, about Black . I've met him a few times, and he told me how he did it. Break out I mean. Brilliant he is, really! And it must have been really hard, because he just barely managed to slip out of the door, while a Dementor was standing there to give him his food! The Dementors didn't notice, since. oh shit! I wasn't supposed to tell anybody!" Ronny exclaimed, looking terrified at having spilled part of the big secret one of his greatest heroes had told him. him of all people. a fact that Ronny was very proud of. He had sworn not to tell anybody. of course he had told Leon and Martin, but that was something else, he could trust them blindly. But now he had told teachers! TEACHERS! And Evans was one of them. Evans!  
  
"Now calm down, Ronny! It's okay, we won't tell anyone!" Hermione tried to reassure the panicking boy. "We won't, will we?"  
  
"Sure we won't. I can't, anyway, since I didn't understand what you just said. He just slipped out of the door, you said? When a Dementor was standing in the door frame? How? If he really did, he must have been terribly thin at the time. personally, I think it's impossible for a human to get past a door that is blocked by a Dementor unnoticed. And then the Dementors would have noticed him get away, for a Dementor can sense any humans near. Are you sure that your dear 'Mighty Deputy Minister Black' didn't just make this rubbish story up to impress you, Longbottom?"  
  
Finally, Ronny relaxed. They didn't understand. Well, of course they didn't. it was a bit unbelievable after all, and he had - luckily - not spilled the most important part. Nobody could understand without knowing that Minister. Deputy Minister Black was an Animagus.  
  
"Good." Ronny said, a smile back on his face. "Anyway, all I can tell you about it is that it is really powerful magic, and that there are not many known people that can do it. speaking about powerful magic." he added, and the smile vanished from his face. In a whisper he went on: "Of course you know about the other one. the only other man that ever escaped from Askaban. Harry Potter!"  
  
Granger nodded weakly, while Evans only sat there, staring darkly. Ronny realised he'd rarely seen such a cold gaze. even from Evans' eyes.  
  
"My father told me about him, he was a dorm mate of Potter's. A dorm mate, can you imagine?" Ronny said. Then a thought struck him. "Hey, you were a house mate of dad's too, and the same year even, Professor!" he exclaimed, turning to Granger. "You must have known him also!"  
  
Hermione couched, gave a short, apologetic glance at Harry, and spoke: "Yes. yes, I did. a bit, yes."  
  
"You did! Tell me about him!"  
  
"Well, he was. he seemed just a normal boy at school. Nobody would have thought he'd turn out a. a murderer." She said quietly, hoping Harry wouldn't blame her. But what should she do? If she lied to the boy it would only make him more curious. He might do a bit research on his own. and he'd certainly take Whitby along. and Whitby was not stupid. God forbid if they found out.  
  
"Yeah, I know." Ronny responded. "Dad said that too. He was just an average student at school. except for those powers, of course. Especially in the last few years he turned out to be more powerful than a normal wizard."  
  
"Yes." Hermione said. "He certainly is and always has been a strong wizard."  
  
"And those talents!" Ronny exclaimed. "Did you know he was a Parselmouth? Oh. of course you did. Anyway, dad says any Parselmouth is evil. there was this evil man a long time ago, he's been long dead now. I dunno his name, dad refuses to tell me. he says decent people only call him You-Know-Who. He was a Parselmouth, too. You must have heard of him."  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"Well, it is rumoured that he. the guy who killed Potter's parents. was Potter's big idol in the end. Do you know how they think it all developed?"  
  
Harry only glared. How dared this boy. this foolish child. this prat, who knew nothing, really NOTHING about him, insult him like that? Harry hated that behaviour, that stupidity, that cheek of people who honestly believed him a murderer, had nothing better to do than to tell as many people as possible that Harry Potter was the most evil guy around, and yet had not the slightest clue what, or who, they were talking about.  
  
"No. But you seem to know a lot about the man, Ronny." Hermione said. Couldn't she just ignore Longbottom's speech?  
  
"Sure I do, from dad. Potter has of all criminals ever recorded at the Ministry of Magic one of the largest files, and that does say something. Anyway, they say it was like this:" the boy continued. "After that You-Know- Who guy had killed Potter's parents, he had to live with his aunt and uncle, a pair of Muggles, you know. and a cousin he had too, I believe. They treated him awfully. So he started to hate all Muggles. After school, when he had become very powerful, he decided to take revenge on all Muggles. But he didn't want to do that alone, that coward. First he partnered up with Lucius Malfoy. that's the father of Professor Malfoy, by the way. He was rumoured to have been one of You-Know-Who's supporters as well, so Potter thought he was the right man for the job. Then Potter went to my Uncle Ron. a brother of my mom, y'know. he was my uncle, but I never got to know him. anyway, Ron was his best friend, and Potter obviously expected Uncle Ron to join him and his cruel plans. But of course Uncle Ron wouldn't. After all, he was a Weasley, and he was a good man, not as evil as that damned Potter. so Potter killed him, and he killed his parents. My grandparents. who also I never knew. because that ass who killed them in cold blood!" Ronny spat.  
  
BOOM!!!  
  
Everybody in the Three Broomsticks stared at Madame Rosmerta as all glasses she was carrying on her tabled not only broke, but more exploded. There was Butterbeer everywhere. Many witches screamed, Madame Rosmerta, whose face was dripping with the liquid, the loudest. She looked and was shocked. Never, never ever in all the time she'd been running this pub, had a glass been damaged. anyway, how was that possible? There were unbreakable charms on them. The whole pub was in utter silence. When, finally, one man spoke, he had everybody's attention, even though he hadn't intended that.  
  
"I'm a bit tired, that duel and all, you know. I think I'm going back up to the castle." Harry Potter told his two companions, Hermione Granger and Ronny Longbottom. His voice was calm, but anyone who knew him well would have seen just how furious he was from the look in his eyes.  
  
"That was you." Hermione whispered, astonished.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
It was late. Harry Potter was lying in his bed and reading a book on potions. In his youth, Harry would never have dreamed he'd ever end up reading a potions book on free account, but now that potions were no longer in direct connection to Professor Severus Snape, he found it actually very interesting. And, from the books he read every now and then, he was sure he learned more than he would have learned if Snape had tried to teach him all that stuff.  
  
Suddenly, it knocked.  
  
Harry was slightly surprised. It was evening and Herm was a bit mad at him for the breaking of the glasses which he'd accidentally caused at the Three Broomsticks only a while ago. She would not want to talk to him now. So was it Albus? Nobody else had ever contacted in his private rooms at that time of the day. Harry grinned. Perhaps it was Malfoy, seeking revenge. But Malfoy would never knock. He'd just try to get in and fail to break Harry's locking charms.  
  
Harry went to the door and opened.  
  
It was Ronny Longbottom.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
After Evans had left the pub, Hermione Granger spent about a whole minute staring into space. Ronny was startled by her behaviour - it was not typical for Professor Granger to let her mind drift off like that. Finally she turned her head towards Ronny so quickly that he jerked.  
  
"Let's go, boy." She said and abruptly stood up. She walked up to Madame Rosmerta, who still looked horrified at what had just happened. "There you go." She said and put a few coins into the witch's hand. Ronny new it was far more than the money they owed her for the drinks. "You should be able to get new glasses from that, too. And sorry for that incident." She added and walked out of the pub so quickly it was hard for Ronny to keep up. He felt the curious gazes of many people on them.  
  
After a while of silent but yet awfully fast walk up to the castle, Ronny, who couldn't stand it any longer, finally asked the question that had been on his mind for minutes.  
  
"Professor. why did you. I mean. the money. you acted as if we were responsible for that. accident. And I've been wondering. why?" He slowly asked, trying to choose his words well. Granger seemed pretty angry, and he didn't want to make any mistakes now. Evans had acted strange too, leaving directly after the glasses had exploded, and leaving so abruptly, saying he was tired, then walking straight out. and Evans had not seemed the least bit tired all evening. Ronny suspected he had lied about why he had left just then, and he was sure Granger knew that too, by the way she acted. but he would not ask her about that now, one question to angry Granger was risky enough for the time being.  
  
"I gave her the money and acted the way I did, Mr Longbottom, because indeed it was us that were responsible for the glasses. Or, to get it straight, it was your dear Professor Evans. The poor Madame Rosmerta, she must have been so confused!" Granger replied with a slight tone of concern in her voice. "Not that I don't understand Henry, of course I do. but you'd think he should have learned to get himself under control better, wouldn't you? Sometimes he can be such a child. Well, the situation was a bit. er, not nice for him, I must admit."  
  
Now Ronny was even more startled. The situation had not been nice for Evans? Why? It had been a cool evening, hadn't it? What was wrong with Evans?  
  
"Professor Evans did that? Why?" Ronny asked.  
  
It was then that Hermione realised who he was talking to and that she'd better stop talking at that point.  
  
"Oh, never mind!" she quickly said. They had reached the castle. "You better go back to your common room now, Mr Longbottom. It's getting a bit late."  
  
So Ronny was sitting in his common room, in a very comfortable armchair by the fire, a few minutes later. There were only very few students left there, everybody else having already gone to their dorms. It was cool, being in the big room with only so few other people there. And all his friends had already gone to bed, having grown tired of waiting for him to return from his 'detention', so there was nobody who wanted to converse with him. Ronny was secretly glad they weren't there, because he wanted to take some time to think about this odd evening. And about Evans. Though Ronny did not quite understand Evans' latest demonstration of craziness the man had proved to have so often already, Evans had acted really cool all evening, and Ronny had found him plainly nice. It had been a pleasant surprise there was also something better than the harsh DADA teacher in the man. It was just as if the mean teacher was just some shabby mask that Evans had taken off for the first time in Ronny's company that evening. A mask he suspected, by the way the man had been so quick to push it aside that night, which Evans himself didn't like. Ronny wondered why the devil the man was wearing that ugly mask. Whatever it was, the boy decided he officially liked Evans now. And he decided he'd do something he'd forgotten before. It was about something he was not even sure he had seen before. But he saw it now, and he knew he had to do something about it. And he'd do it now, no matter what the rules said about it.  
  
The only difficulty was to avoid anyone walking though the halls. any teachers. or Filch and his ruddy cat.  
  
Ronny hoped Evans would not punish him further for sneaking out at this time of day. or better night. but surely. hopefully. the man would understand.  
  
It was several minutes later that he reached Evans' private rooms, luckily unseen.  
  
Ronny knocked.  
  
It was a while later that Evans opened the door, looking surprised at who he saw.  
  
"Mr Longbottom!" he exclaimed. "I hadn't expected to meet you again tonight, especially after that. incident in Hogsmeade. And it's a bit late for you to be out, isn't it, boy? Well. come in anyway." Evans said, took a step aside and motioned for Ronny to come in.  
  
"Er. I didn't wake you up, Professor, did I?" Ronny asked. Evans did not look as though he had been asleep, but the boy just wanted to make conversation.  
  
"You didn't. Though you were lucky, I usually am asleep at this time of the night when I have classes the next day, but I just didn't feel tired enough to sleep, so I was reading. Anyway, do you know what time it is?"  
  
Ronny made a mental note about Evans using the words "I'm tired, I'm getting back up to the castle." For an excuse in Hogsmeade, and now saying "I wasn't tired, so I was reading." Here. So obviously the man had lied in Hogsmeade. Ronny wasn't surprised; it had sounded a bit odd anyway. So Evans had just said that to get away from the Three Broomsticks? Just because he had accidentally broken a few glasses? 'Why?' Ronny wondered, since he thought Evans to be anything but a coward now.  
  
Then he answered the teacher's question, even though he knew it was probably rhetorical. "The time, Professor?" Ronny took out a pocket watch his father had given him for Christmas. His dad had bought it in a Muggle shop, but then cursed it so it would also show the date. And his father'd make it talk also. Not much of course, but still Ronny found it the very best watch one could possess. And he knew nobody that owned a watch anything like his. Ronny smiled, looking at the fabulous object. Then, reading the time, he swallowed. Sure he'd known it was late, even past time limit for students to go anywhere past their common rooms, but that late? He hadn't bothered looking at his watch. 'Stupid.' Ronny thought. Because if he had bothered, he'd certainly have thought about going twice.  
  
"Er. it is. my clock here says it's. a quarter to. a quarter to twelve, sir." He swallowed again. "But." he added quickly, "That is a Muggle clock. it's most probably broken anyway."  
  
"It is not." Evans said. "The time is right. well, not right for you to be here of course. what I mean to say is that your clock works perfectly fine. Then, let me think. ten points off Gryffindor for sneaking out of bed at this impossible hour, Mr Longbottom."  
  
"But.!" Ronny protested.  
  
"No buts, boy. You know I'm right. Anyway, it's my duty to punish you properly if I witness something like that. And I would have done it even if I hadn't had to, I guess."  
  
Ronny raised an eyebrow at him. "You would?"  
  
"Sure!" Evans replied, grinning. "After all, I do have a reputation to lose."  
  
Ronny felt a bit bad after losing those points, yet couldn't help but smile. Of course - Evans' 'mean unfair git' reputation, how could he have forgotten?  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"I take it you came here for other purposes than to get a couple of house points taken off? Because you really could have chosen an easier way of doing that, you know." Evans finally said.  
  
"Yes, I. I wanted to. talk to you." Ronny stuttered, wondering what he should say.  
  
"So urgently?" Evans questioned, but didn't push that matter any fasted. "Well. I suppose we should go and sit down, then? We could have some drinks why we're at it."  
  
Ronny nodded.  
  
So he ended up sitting face to face with his DADA teacher in the man's living room once again, and once again he was about to talk about things he'd rather not talk about. But Ronny knew it had to be done.  
  
"What do you want to talk about?" Evans calmly asked.  
  
Ronny looked up from his pumpkin juice, meeting the teacher's gaze. His father always said you had to look into one's eyes if you were about to apologise to them, if you wanted to do it properly, which Ronny did. And Ronny knew his dad was right in that point.  
  
"About. about what I did. the reason I got that detention with you, Professor. After I'd told you about it, I. I said that was all. but there's something I have forgotten. and it's rather important. at least it is to me." He said quietly.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"What is that you have forgotten to tell me, boy?" Evans asked, his voice almost sounding a bit. gentle.  
  
Ronny found it harder and harder to look into those emerald green eyes, even thought there now was an ensuring smile on Evans' face - something that Ronny had never seen before. So the teacher was trying to help him? Did Evans know what he was trying to say?  
  
"I. I wanted to. to apologise to you, Professor." Ronny almost whispered. He knew if he wanted to say this he'd have to get it straight out right now that he had started, for he felt he might not manage to stand up to Evans' gaze for much longer. Ronny was grateful the professor did not interrupt him.  
  
"I'm really sorry. for what I said about you in that Runes class. Professor, I didn't mean it. yes, I did, but. but I know better now, and I'd never do it again, you've got to believe me! I just. I didn't know you very well. and I was angry. though I know that's no excuse. I just had no idea who I was talking about, do you understand? You could say I first got to know you tonight. in the pub. and I never meant to say such things about you. the you that you showed tonight, okay? And I. I wanted you to know that. and I'm very sorry, and. and. and I. I. Please forgive me, Professor!" Ronny finished in a whisper, feeling a bit ashamed. Biting his lips, he quickly stared down at his orange juice again, reflecting on what he had just done.  
  
Evans said nothing.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, Ronny looked up, only to meet that brilliant green gaze again. Damn. How long would Evans keep staring at him like that? Wasn't he going to say anything? Or would he just laugh at him, tell him he was a baby, tell him he was a fool, take hundreds of points off and send him to bed?  
  
Harry Potter was surprised. Sure, he'd figured out what Ronny was going to say as soon as the boy had told him he'd forgotten to say something after that explanation about the Runes lesson, yet after Hogsmeade he'd never have expected Ronny to come to him. at this hour. and apologise. Although Harry was also very happy, and even a bit proud. He felt that night Ronny Longbottom had learned a very important thing, probably one of the most important things the boy had learned at Hogwarts so far. He'd learned about morals, about conscience. And Harry had been one of the main people to teach him. It was a fine feeling. 'This really is one of the few moments it really pays off to be plagued with hundreds of annoying teenagers going through puberty.' Harry thought and smiled.  
  
Ronny was startled when a broad smile suddenly appeared on Evans' face.  
  
"You came all the way here at this time and at this risk just to apologise to me, Longbottom?" the man finally said.  
  
Ronny felt himself go red and looked down again. He would have liked to spring up, run away and go straight to bed, but he knew it was the wrong thing to do. Not now. 'He's just toying with you, fool!' his mind said. 'Just play along.' So he did.  
  
"So I did, Professor." Ronny said quietly, daring to put a shy smile onto his face. "Was it worth is?"  
  
Again he fought the urge to look down as he felt his teacher's piercing eyes examine him. Suddenly Evans grinned.  
  
"Yes, boy, it was most definitely worth it. I do forgive you." Evans said, making Ronny give an audible sigh of relief. Then the boy couldn't help yawning.  
  
"Tired, are you?" Harry asked. "Well, it's past midnight, you're supposed to have been in bed for hours. Asleep."  
  
Ronny nodded guiltily.  
  
"Well, I'll just get going now then, I guess." He muttered, standing up from the sofa and turning to leave quickly."  
  
"No, you won't." Evans just stated.  
  
Ronny turned around. "Um. excuse me, Professor? I. I won't?" he asked, confused. Was he going to get a punishment after all now? What was the point of this?  
  
"Of course you won't. You were damned lucky you weren't seen on your way here, boy. There are teachers walking around the halls, you know. Not to mention the ghosts, one particularly nasty poltergeist, our 'dear' caretaker. and of course that 'very lovely' cat of his that doesn't seem to need rest at all, being able to follow you anywhere and anytime, making sure you don't put as much as one toe out of the line. And you want to just go out there? Now?"  
  
"Well, what choice do I have?" Ronny asked bitterly. "I must go back somehow." The boy also didn't like the idea of being caught in some hall right now.  
  
Harry smiled again. "Let's just make sure you won't be seen, okay?"  
  
"Huh?" Ronny replied.  
  
"There is this cloak I own, you know. and I don't see why I shouldn't lend it to you. As long as I'll get it back unharmed of course. Wait a minute, I'll get it."  
  
Soon he came back carrying a very beautiful, silverish cloak which Ronny recognised at once. A friend of his father owned one too, having been given it by the Minister of somewhere for ridding his country of some evil Dark Wizard. The man had once shown it to Ronny. It was.  
  
"An Invisibility Cloak!" Ronny exclaimed. "Wow! Those things are really valuable."  
  
"I know." Evans cut him off. "No offence, boy, but would you mind just taking it and heading off for your dorm? I'm slowly getting a bit tired too, you know."  
  
Ronny carefully slid his hand over the beautiful fabric. "I. of course, sir. and thank you, this cloak is just splendid. thanks so much, sir."  
  
"You're quite welcome, Longbottom." Evans said and led the boy to the door.  
  
Ronny carefully covered himself with the cloak, feeling great. It was a feeling of pure freedom. Evans was still staring in his direction, but not really seeing him. He could do anything now, nobody would see him. He could do anything.  
  
Not really thinking about what he was doing, Ronny started pulling the funniest faces he could think of. Nobody could see him.  
  
Harry Potter burst into laugher. This was the funniest thing since. since Askaban, he was sure. Well, except for that duel with Malfoy perhaps. He searched support on the wall, or else he was sure he would have fallen to the floor. Harry was gasping for breathe.  
  
"Longbottom, you. whatever did you just. do that for?" he managed before dissolving into another fit of laugher.  
  
Ronny didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed. "You. you can still see me? But I thought. the cloak. I'm supposed to be invisible." he stared at the floor. Obviously that cloak hadn't worked. What had he thought he was doing? And in front of Evans? Sure, he'd had the cloak, but Evans had always shown incredible powers. so why shouldn't the man be able to look through cloaks?  
  
Ronny looked up. Evans had stopped laughing and was only grinning at him now. "Sorry about that, boy. I just sort of lost it. I don't think I've seen something that funny in a while, you know."  
  
Ronny smiled slightly back. "That's alright. I understand your reaction pretty well. don't know what hit me there. Probably that feeling. oh, never mind. But would you mind telling me. how exactly you just saw. that? Cause I don't want it to happen with anyone else."  
  
Harry smiled. "It's my glasses. Boy, you have no idea how useful a pair of glasses can be, if you just know how to use them properly. And don't worry about being seen, nobody here. except for Albus perhaps. would be able to cast the charm. at least I think so. And I don't think the headmaster would do anything. he knows and sees a lot, you know, and rarely interferes with anything. Leaves that to other people. And now, boy, all there is left for me to say is that you must please be very careful with that cloak, it has much value to me. not only financial, but emotional value. Do you understand?"  
  
"Of course, Professor."  
  
"Very well. Your first lesson tomorrow morning is DADA, isn't it?"  
  
Ronny nodded.  
  
"Fine. Bring the cloak, will you? But don't let anyone see it. except for Creevey and Whitby of course, you tell each other everything, don't you? Anyway, hand it over to me after class, will you?"  
  
"Okay, sir."  
  
"Don't call me sir, boy, it makes me feel like some Ministry worker. not that I have anything against Ministry workers, of course. well, just call me Professor. Good night then, Longbottom."  
  
"Good night, Professor." Ronny said with one last grateful smile. He turned around to walk off, till.  
  
"Aah, and Longbottom?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I know what you just did. what you came here for. wasn't easy for you. So I'll give you. twenty points for bringing up the courage. Is that okay with you?" Harry asked.  
  
Ronny stared. Had Evans just given him points? Twenty points? That was a whole lot.  
  
"I knew you'd agree." Evans said and yawned loudly.  
  
"Thanks!" Ronny called, but Evans had already shut the door.  
  
'That man is definitely the oddest teacher in school.' Ronny thought.  
  
He looked at his watch. It was half past twelve. He needed to get going.  
  
Ronny Longbottom reached his dorm unseen, thanks to the Invisibility Cloak. He had seen both McGonagall and Mrs Norris on his way there, thought neither had seen him. But Mrs Norris had sniffed in his direction suspiciously.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
Both Harry Potter and Ronny Longbottom were very satisfied with the development of their days as they fell asleep that night.  
  
  
  
+ + + + + + + + End chapter + + + + Author's Note:  
  
Ha! Another one done! So Ronny starts to seriously like Harry now. I do know there was not too much action in this chapter, except for the bathroom part perhaps. but I can promise you that the next one will be full of it.  
  
Hope you liked this one anyway!  
  
+  
  
Now, something else: On request, I have finally thought about some important background information to this story, and come up with this: Harry is currently 34 years old. He was imprisoned at the age of 20, so he was fourteen years in prison before he broke out. His sentence was thirty years for threefold murder. Ronny and friends are fourteen at the moment, so Ronny was born shortly after Harry was imprisoned. Okay. I know I avoided writing about those facts, because I had not reasoned out it all back then the way I have now. Problem solved. I'll go through the first few chapters again and look if I've made any serious mistakes because of it - if I have, I'll correct it if possible.  
  
Okay, now that's settled, too. I sincerely hope I will be able to stick to what I've just told you guys, but that shouldn't be a problem, really.  
  
+  
  
CU!!!  
  
Ottilchen 


	20. Chapter 19: Students, convicts and auror...

Chapter 19: Students, convicts and aurors  
  
Harry Potter was not looking forward to the fifth year Gryffindors' and Slytherins' class. He was going to put them under Imperius that day. And he knew they wouldn't like it. Neither would he. Harry hated to put Unforgivable Curses onto people. Not that he'd ever done or would ever do anything but an Imperius for training, but that was bad enough. It shook up bad memories that were better left buried. Well, this had to be done. Harry hoped at least some of them would manage to break the curse. and he'd go through it with them again and again, until someone would break it. They just had to. Harry smiled grimly. He new that could take years, even with adults. But well, he'd keep trying.  
  
Luckily, Albus had agreed to help him. When Harry had asked him to assist the class only that morning at breakfast, he had said to Albus that he only wanted his help because everyone would get more time of training if they were two people casting the curses. Of course Harry found more training time useful, but truth was that he mostly wanted his friend to help him with that unpleasant task because he was sure there would be no complains about 'Evil Professor Evans casting evil Unforgivables' when the headmaster was doing the very same thing. Or at least there would be less complains.  
  
Harry wondered if Albus knew the real reason he'd been asked to come as he watched his students take their seats. Albus probably did. The man knew an awful lot, Harry reflected. And in the end he always ended up wondering how he knew, how he'd found out; yet Harry never found an answer to that question. He grinned. Sometimes even he found Albus Dumbledore, his friend and mentor, a bit creepy.  
  
"Good morning, class." He said, while next to him Albus just stood and presented his usual warm smile to the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Yes, Gryffindors and Slytherins, having DADA together. In Harry's schooldays they'd always had DADA alone. For the first time he seriously wondered when on earth Albus - who could have done it but Albus - had come up with that in his eyes plainly silly plan of putting the rivalling houses together in DADA also, and why. Must have been some time while he was in prison. and with some purpose. There was a purpose in everything Albus Dumbledore did. Every spell he cast, every finger he moved, every word he spoke.  
  
"Good morning, Professor Evans." Came the reply. Yet most students were not looking at Harry, but staring at Albus, though. No wonder. The headmaster was seen in a class very rarely indeed.  
  
For a while nobody spoke, the kids looking up at the two men expectantly.  
  
"You can stop staring, you know. I'm Albus Dumbledore, you all know me. And I'm only here to. assist this class, so there's nothing extraordinary, really." Albus said. "Anyway. I wish you a very pleasant morning, my dear students."  
  
There was a short pause of confusion. Then: "Good morning, Professor Dumbledore!"  
  
Silence again.  
  
"Fine, could as well get it straight." Harry finally said. "You're fighting the Imperius Curse today. And not only today, I'm sure. That's the reason the headmaster is here. The learning progress will be faster if there are two of us casting it."  
  
There was the complaining groan Harry had feared.  
  
"You. you're really going to. do this? To us? Do you hate us that much?" Susan Wood muttered. "And you too, Professor Dumbledore? But I thought you. I thought you of all people would never."  
  
"I don't hate you the least, neither does Professor Dumbledore." Harry interrupted. "I have no reason to hate you. You know what? I think I don't even dislike this class, Miss Wood. But yes, I am going to do this. To you. All of you. And your headmaster will do the very same things I will. Consider it a challenge."  
  
Another groan.  
  
"Oh, come on! It's not that bad, honestly! It might even be fun. well, at the receiving end of the wand. It's a battle of wills, sort of. Just that you're not battling our wills, but the will of some stupid curses. You try to break that curses' wills. Okay? Nothing dangerous. God, it's not even painful the least. And I promise I won't make you do something too bad. like jump out of a window or something of that sort. There really is no problem at all. And no reason to be afraid. So is that okay with you?"  
  
For a moment all kids just stared at him. Then loud complains like "No!", "You can't!" and "That's awful!" were voiced again. Harry held his hand up to silence them, which he managed rather quickly. There was much authority about him.  
  
"Yes, Professor. that's perfectly fine." Ronny Longbottom suddenly said, calmly and loudly. Harry grinned at him thankfully. The warm smile had never left Albus' face.  
  
** +++ **  
  
After half of the lesson, when everybody had been under the curse twice, Harry decided to give the kids a break and go through the theory properly. He had the impression most of the kids still didn't know what they were supposed to do. But it was not really easy to tell. they had to find out for themselves.  
  
Harry had been right when he'd assumed he wouldn't like casting the Imperius on his students. He felt awful putting that curse which was pure evil on his students. He almost felt as if he was some dark wizard. well, he imagined that being a dark wizard must feel very much the way he felt now. Awful, and. dirty. Harry felt plainly dirty doing something he believed to have to be fought.  
  
Harry watched his friend cast the charm on Martin Whitby, making the boy dance a slow waltz. From the grim expression on Albus' face and the slightly fading twinkle in his blue eyes, the man must feel pretty similar to Harry.  
  
"Fight it, Whitby. It's not that hard and you're smart. I know you can do it!" Harry said. Everybody's attention turned to Martin, who blushed slightly. Yet, after five minutes of unsuccessful fighting, Albus released Martin from the curse. The boy was panting.  
  
"Let's have a small break, shall we?" Harry asked the class. They nodded gratefully.  
  
Harry handed out bottles of water he had conjured. For a while, everybody was drinking. Naturally they were exhausted. After all, mental fighting was also fighting.  
  
"Can you really break that curse, Professor?" Ronny Longbottom suddenly asked Harry. Harry looked up.  
  
"Of course he can, prat. Just because your stupid father is unable doesn't mean nobody can. Haven't you watched him duel Malfoy?" Simon Zabini sneered. Some Slytherins laughed.  
  
Ronny clenched his fists but didn't respond. Not in front of the headmaster.  
  
But Albus Dumbledore just watched the scene with interest, looking calm.  
  
"Yes, I can." Harry answered, ignoring the Slytherin.  
  
"Could you. show us, Professor?" Susan Wood asked shyly.  
  
Harry smiled at her. "Yeah, I guess I could." He looked at Albus, who hadn't said much all lesson. "What do you think, Albus. shall I?"  
  
Harry was glad to see Albus smile again. "Of course, why not. It would be good for your students to see, don't you think?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Fine. But. please have mercy with me, will you?" he said, smiling.  
  
Albus raised an eyebrow. "You are planning to break it anyway, aren't you?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Well, you're almighty Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, blah, blah, blah. and personally I think you're totally crazy, so I can never know what to expect from you."  
  
The class watched their little conversation with amusement. Those two really seemed to be friends.  
  
"Fine, I promise I won't do anything that might seriously hurt you if it works. Only physically hurt, of course."  
  
"Only physically?"  
  
Albus smiled. Not the usual warm, comforting smile, but a mischievous one. "Only physically. Because, my dear Henry, if you fail to break that curse I'm going to put on you, you'll retire from shame. Or worse, end up in St Mungo's because you've gone crazy from it."  
  
"Sounds pretty bad. As crazy as you are, you mean?"  
  
Albus grinned. "Much crazier than I have ever been. Imperio!"  
  
Harry knew if Albus only did a simple Imperius charm he'd be able to break it in merely a few seconds; yet the man's voice in his head came as a bit of a shock.  
  
'Climb onto the desk and tell them about the spectacular dances Ron and you performed on the tables of the Three Broomsticks the night after your NEWTs. And demonstrate the. most interesting part, when you took your shirts off.'  
  
For a moment Harry just stared. Albus knew? How the devil had the man found out about. that?  
  
"How dare you even suggest that?" he burst out loudly, causing his students to wonder what the headmaster had tried. unsuccessfully tried, it appeared. to make Evans do.  
  
"So you won't do it?"  
  
"Of course I won't!!! I'd lose any respect I've earned from them, damn you, Albus!" Harry said. Suddenly he blushed furiously and looked at the floor. "I wasn't even aware that you knew. you knew all the time."  
  
Albus grinned. "I never spoke about it with anyone that didn't know. of course half of Hogwarts' students were there that night, and you really did make quite a show of it. anyway, it could have happened to anyone. anyone that was seventeen years old. and a bit drunk. well, very drunk."  
  
The students chuckled at the picture of a seventeen-year-old Evans, drunk in some pub.  
  
"Shut up right now, and I mean it, Albus!" Harry said, but was still unable to whisk the grin off his face.  
  
After a moment of nothing but grins and laugher, Ronny Longbottom spoke up: "So that was it? That's all? The curse didn't seem to have any effect at all. So no difficult mind fighting at all? Or wasn't it cast properly?"  
  
Harry answered, serious again: "Yes, Mr Longbottom, that was all. And it doesn't take minutes. Quite easy once you've got it, in fact. And I'm sure if you keep practising you will get it sooner or later. So kids. want to go back to work?"  
  
Harry was a bit surprised at their reaction, but grinned anyway as his students cheered and sprang up, eager to end their break.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
It was their last Quidditch training before the match - Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff - and they were determined to play well this one last evening, and to show Evans how much they could do already. Between the many training sessions they'd had with their professor, the kids had done much practice on their own. Of course it was less hard and also less successful when they practised without their trainer, but it was much fun and the very first but still most important thing Evans had taught them about the sport was that no matter if you won or lost, Quidditch was supposed to be fun. If it was not, there was nothing gained.  
  
And by the way Henry Evans acted on the pitch, the man was the living example that it was true.  
  
"Go, Longbottom!" Harry yelled at the chaser who currently was in possession of the Quaffle. He flew, getting faster, approached the goalpost on the right, and.  
  
"Good catch!" he yelled to the keeper. "Try harder next time, Longbottom! I know you can make it!"  
  
Then the man noticed Thomas Weasley flying towards the other end of the pitch fast. well, not all that fast, but a lot faster than he usually flew when he was making circles high up, searching.  
  
Thomas wasn't only searching now; he had seen the snitch.  
  
Harry watched with interest as he flew towards it, getting closer, and closer. now only inches away.  
  
And the snitch flew off.  
  
"Damn that bloody golden walnut!!!" the boy yelled in frustration. Harry managed to hold back laugher, knowing that the boy could use some encouragement now.  
  
Harry grinned as he put a 'Sonorus' charm onto himself. Back in his childhood, he had always found Lee Jordan's little comments. which mostly were in their favour. very encouraging.  
  
"And Gryffindor Star Seeker Thomas Weasley zooms to the golden snitch. and misses it only by inches! He was so close! But the spectators agree that surely he'll catch it soon, by the way this boy can fly." he yelled, sounding, he found, very much like a spectator.  
  
Satisfied he saw Thomas grin at him and grinned back.  
  
"Aah, there comes Chaser Leon Creevey!" he continued cheerfully, enjoying his little game. "He's flying with fantastic speed, just like we know him. dodging a nasty bludger. he's approaching the goalposts! Is this the Gryffindors' chance to score? He's getting closer, but the keeper's in the way. here now he passes the Quaffle to Martin Whitby, who catches it, flying faster and faster. held up by the keeper too! My, that guy really is in perfect form today. and the Quaffle goes back to Creevey. now Longbottom again. and. oh my God. LONGBOTTOM SCORES!" Harry roared. "What perfect team work the Gryffindor chasers play! Sensational! The spectators are going crazy! What a show!!!"  
  
The three chasers grinned proudly. Evans really had something about him that made his training fun.  
  
"And Weasley seems to have seen the snitch! What speed he can get, I can hardly see him anymore! He's flying straight at the ground. what a spectacular dive. will he hit the ground? He's getting closer and closer. No, he manages to pull out!"  
  
Of course it was all not half as dangerous as Evans made it seem - yet those comments made it all far more exciting. Thomas slowly pulled out of it in mid-air and reached for the golden ball that he was finding more and more annoying.  
  
"And Thomas Weasley CATCHES THE SNITCH!!!" Harry yelled, grinning as the whole team cheered. Practice was over, and Harry was very satisfied with what the team had done today. They were starting to play like a real team, and, which meant even more to their trainer, they were having a great time doing so. They were starting to feel proud of playing Quidditch for Gryffindor, not ashamed anymore. Harry was pleased to say the least. He made some looping of joy for his private little success with the team, before landing and congratulating his kids.  
  
"Very well done today! I'd say, as strange as it may sound to you, the Gryffindor Quidditch team shall have a very good chance of winning tomorrow at the game. Good job, kids, and I mean it!" he declared as they were now all standing in front of their cabin. "Now let's go up to the castle together. or fly, if you'd prefer that. A shower should do you some good. Me too, as a matter of fact. And please go to bed a bit earlier today, will you? I want you to be fit tomorrow. Is that okay with you?"  
  
They all nodded, then mounted their brooms in order to fly back up to the castle. Harry smiled at the eagerness. Of course they were tired.  
  
"Er. Professor?" Thomas Weasley suddenly asked, turning to Harry. "Would you mind if I. had a little ride on your broom? You know. it's such an old model, and I've never flown on a veteran broom before. Please?"  
  
Harry grinned again. The boy wanted to ride his rusty old Firebolt for a while? Well, why not.  
  
"Sure, Thomas. Come here." He offered.  
  
"Thanks, Professor!" he exclaimed and walked over to where Harry was standing. They changed brooms.  
  
"This is really. strenuous!" Thomas complained as they were halfway up. "Mind if we change again?"  
  
So they did, a constant smile on Harry's face.  
  
"Well, of course it's harder, boy. It's an older model, so you have to do more of the work, with your body and your mind."  
  
"How can you stand constantly flying on that thing?"  
  
"Oh, I get along with it pretty well. Always have and always will. Surely it's harder to fly than those. bloody expensive. new brooms with all that technology about them. But I don't mind. Also you could say I've got something like an. emotional bind to this broom. Another reason not to let go."  
  
"Emotional bind?" Ronny asked, curiously. "How?"  
  
"Well." Harry answered, "It was a Christmas present when I was thirteen. But let's not go further into that." Harry hoped he hadn't said too much.  
  
"Professor, you. when we. if we become. a successful team after some time. will you. will you keep training us, sir?" Leon asked, having grown fond of Quidditch training with Evans.  
  
Harry smiled again. He liked the development of those kids' connection to his favourite sport.  
  
"Yes. I guess I will. If you still want me to, that is."  
  
The kids loudly agreed.  
  
"But if it really comes this far. would you mind if we. put more effort into it? We'll take small steps of course." Harry carefully voiced his thoughts.  
  
A moment of silence.  
  
"How do you mean, 'Put more effort into it', Professor?" Martin Whitby asked.  
  
"Well, I thought about. getting your bodies in better form, perhaps. Like. running perhaps. Only short distances at the beginning, later longer. I won't make you do more than you see fit, that's a promise. Then perhaps something to train your arms, and your stomach muscles. but that's only some little idea in my mind, if we do it we'll properly think it over together first. Anyway. what do you think of it?"  
  
There was a longer pause.  
  
"Sounds pretty. well. sounds pretty awfully hard, if you know what I mean." Ronny finally said.  
  
Harry grinned. "Yes, I do know what you mean. And, Ronny, I fully agree with you. If we are really are going to do what I just suggested, then it's gonna be very hard, and not always pleasant. But hey, see the other side of it: After a while there will be. visible effects. And then. well, I'll get it straight: Girls simply love that look, and they'll be all over you in swarms. And believe me, I'm relying to my very own experience. I was sixteen when I started with it, you know. sick of being so skinny. and after a while. well, you get the picture. Personally I found it very irritating, but many others became pretty jealous. It's your choice."  
  
For a long time everybody was stunned silent. Then they burst into laugher, each picturing what the teacher had just told them.  
  
***** +++++ *****  
  
Seamus Finnigan felt as awful as it could get as he passed the large cells of Askaban that afternoon. But he hadn't expected anything else really. Of course a man like him would feel terrible knowing he was about to kill. to murder. two people. Of course Askaban was full of dark wizards, so the two men he'd end up killing would probably not deserve any less. But still.  
  
Seamus forced himself to look at the 'good' side of the thing. He'd do the world and the Ministry much good. Yes, he would. Because he did this on request of the Deputy Minister himself, and all the Ministry of Magic ever did was to take care of the well-being of the Magical Community. Also, Seamus thought, he'd probably only do those two evil gits a favour anyway. After all, who would not prefer the fast flash of green light to a cruelly long time of suffering and finally a very slow and painful - both physically and mentally painful - death in Askaban? They should be thankful.  
  
Seamus had tried to make it fair. As fair as he could make it. As fair as a murder in cold blood could be. He had taken a look at the files of all Askaban prisoners. He had sorted out those who had been in those ruddy cells the longest, because they would be the ones least willing to live anymore. Yes. They would probably not even mind very much when he. took their lives.  
  
The first of the two people his sorting mechanism had brought up was Lucius Malfoy. The man had been arrested together with Potter for the murder of Ron, Arthur and Molly Weasley. Seamus thought he was probably one of the men there who deserved death the most, having been a dark wizard all along while spying on the Ministry. He considered Malfoy, as well as Potter, a traitor.  
  
Seamus had come up with this sorting way of his because he found it terrible to decide who to live and who to die. It was against all morals. A man who had to kill some people from a group couldn't just let those live who he found most likeable. That was like playing God, that just wasn't allowed. That would be worse than the killing itself. There had to be a logical system behind what he did, and Seamus was glad he had come up with such a system.  
  
And now he had to be fair and stick to it, whether he liked the outcome or not.  
  
Seamus had been shocked to see that the man with the second highest time spent in Askaban already was Severus Snape, his former teacher.  
  
Not that he liked Snape pretty much; he just found that killing somebody he knew - and he'd been with Snape constantly for seven years - was much harder. But well. better get this over with.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Severus Snape was having a normal day in his dirty Azkaban cell. That meant he spent most of it in a heap on the ground, barely eating and drinking, instead thinking a lot about what could have been, but also about what might still be some day. even though he knew he was very unlikely to ever get out of his cell alive.  
  
Yes, he would fight, even though he did not really see a point in fighting. But he had promised Albus he would not attempt suicide, and he would fight for his sanity. So Severus spent a lot of time thinking about things worth to be remembered, about difficult spells he knew, about curses he would use on those stupid aurors if only he had a wand. And he spent much time thinking about himself, so he'd always remember who he was.  
  
Severus Snape was very surprised as he heard obviously human footsteps approaching, coming to his very cell. He opened his eyes, which he hadn't done in quite a while, so it took a while to adjust to the light, even though there was not much light in Azkaban at all. Soon he saw an auror rounding a corner and getting nearer and nearer. He recognised him as Seamus Finnigan, a boy he remembered from his time as Hogwarts' Potions Professor. The last time Severus had seen Finnigan was about two weeks ago, when he'd brought Albus.  
  
So he couldn't be bringing some visitor. Snape was not allowed to see any visitors more often than twice a year. Then what was this low-ranking git of an auror doing at his cell?  
  
Finally Finnigan stopped in front of his bars, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.  
  
"Anything. wrong, Finnigan?" he asked. Not having been used for a while, his voice sounded awful.  
  
Seamus tried hard to stay calm. He had decided to start his 'job' with Snape, because he was the harder person to kill. So he'd get that over with at the beginning, to get it off his mind as soon as possible. Now it was time to act, and he found it even harder than he had imagined.  
  
Seamus Finnigan raised his wand. He'd do it now. Why not, Snape was just a git. And a dark wizard. He deserved to die. Of course he deserved to die, for everything he had done. He did, didn't he? Seamus had no choice anyway. He had to kill him, or somebody else would. Snape would end up dead anyway, Seamus had no choice in that matter. No choice at all. Really no bit of a choice. So he needed to kill him. Kill Severus Snape. Now. He'd probably want to die anyway, instead of spending more time in this hell. He would appreciate the green light and be grateful for it.  
  
Seamus slowly lowered his wand again. Did Snape really want to die, or did he not? If he did Seamus knew it would be a lot easier to do it in the end. But if he didn't.  
  
The auror decided to take the chance and find out.  
  
"Do you want to die, Snape?" he asked, showing no emotions in his voice.  
  
Severus Snape stared. No auror in Askaban had ever asked him that. What did Finnigan want?  
  
"I. I will. not be. co. committing. suicide. any time soon. , why?" he replied weakly.  
  
Seamus smiled grimly. "Oh no, my dear man, I'm not talking about suicide. Suicide is much too hard and painful. But hey, look at what you've got here. This cannot be called life, Snape. This is hell, you know that as well as I do. Have you never dreamed someone would come here and end it for you?"  
  
Severus paled, hoping he had heard wrong. This man was an auror! "No, Finnigan. I have. never. dreamed. of that." He replied.  
  
Seamus didn't like where this was going; yet he bent down to the ground so his head was in height with Snape's.  
  
"You know, Snape. I could be just that someone. I could end this hell for you, once and for all. Now and here, if you wish. A quick shot of green light, and then it will be all over. No more pain, no more sorrow, no more Askaban, no more hell. There will be nothing but peace, Snape. So do you want me to end it? To get you into a better world?" Seamus asked in the most gentle of all voices.  
  
Snape backed away, starting to panic. Finnigan was offering to kill him?! What did the man think he was doing? Snape had never heard of an auror killing an Askaban prisoner. Oh my God.  
  
"N. no, thank you! I'd. rather not have you. end it for me!" he exclaimed a bit too hastily.  
  
Seamus looked down, not liking his situation at all.  
  
"Well, Snape." he replied calmly, meeting Snape's terrified gaze again, "I fear you have not much choice in that matter."  
  
Severus Snape felt his heart beating faster and faster in terror. This must not be happening!  
  
"You. you're going to. you can't be. you're killing me! You can't be. killing me!"  
  
Seamus slowly raised his wand.  
  
"No! Please don't! I don't want. please, Finnigan! I. I can help you at work, Finnigan! I. I have valuable. information! Information, Finnigan! Don't. oh, please." Severus begged, his voice strangely pitched with fear.  
  
Snape had pictured many times what this situation would be like. A man with a wand standing over him, about to shoot the killing curse. He had always thought that he would be at a death eater meeting when that happened, not in an Azkaban cell. A long time ago, Severus Snape had decided that when the moment was there, when he knew he would die, he would not beg for his life like most did, but instead spit his murderer into the face. He would not die like a coward, he would not show any weakness. He would die like a man.  
  
But now that the situation was there, he didn't think of this decision he had once made. There was just one thing on his mind: Survival.  
  
Seamus Finnigan suddenly had that terrible smile back on his face.  
  
"I'm not able to spare your life, Snape; I have orders to follow. And what information would you have? You've told us all you knew at that trial of yours. So stop begging for your filthy life at my feet and take it like a man!" Seamus Finnigan spat, angry Snape made it so hard for him to. get it over with.  
  
Severus Snape noticed desperate tears running down his cheeks and ignored them.  
  
'You must not die! Someone save you! Something! Some information. think faster before it's too late. you must know something. anything.' a voice in his head screamed at him.  
  
Seamus aimed his wand at Snape's heart threateningly. The cell was so small Snape could hardly move. He would not be able to dodge the curse once it was fired, not to mention hide from it. The man had no chance. 'I have to do this!' Seamus thought one last time.  
  
"I am sorry about this, you know." Seamus whispered. "Avada."  
  
"I know where Potter is!!!" Snape suddenly burst out.  
  
Seamus wand dropped to the ground with a quiet 'clank'. The man was astonished.  
  
"P. Potter you mean? Harry Potter? How. You cannot know! You're lying!"  
  
"No! I. I'm telling the truth! He's under disguise. and I know where he's hiding . really, I swear! I. I will tell you. everything I know! Just don't kill me. please, Finnigan, have mercy. I swear I will tell you!" Severus pleaded. "Just hear me out!"  
  
Wordlessly, Seamus Finnigan picked his wand up and hurried away from the dirty grey cell.  
  
For the time being, Severus was relieved to say the least.  
  
As Finnigan returned a few minutes later there was a man with him; a man Severus Snape did not recognise.  
  
There was something familiar about this guy. He had a tall, slender body and blonde, short hair. Also he looked rather muscular. What Snape thought he knew those eyes that were now looking at him with what looked like disgust. The look in those eyes however was unfamiliar. Who did this man look like?  
  
"Who are you?" he asked the new man.  
  
"What, Snape. you do not recognise the stupid, clumsy boy you used to hate with a passion in class? The boy you yelled at for seven damned years?" the man spoke. Snape realised he knew that voice too, only now it was deeper.  
  
"You are not. are you? Neville Longbottom???"  
  
"Indeed. Neville Longbottom." The auror said. "But that is not of importance here. The only thing of importance, my dear Professor Snape, is the fact that you claim to know where Harry Potter is hiding, as Seamus here just reported to me. Is that true, man?"  
  
Severus Snape smiled weakly. "Yes."  
  
He was happy. He'd just tell them, and then they'd let him live. He was safe now.  
  
Longbottom nodded. "Very well. Then we will be having the Veritaserum prepared now, Snape. That should take a few hours, but being one of the best Potions Masters there are you probably know that, don't you? You will be questioned as soon as it's ready. And I hope that you are not lying about knowing where Potter is, or be sure you will be terribly sorry."  
  
With that, the two aurors turned their backs to the prisoner. Severus heard he beginning of their conversation as they walked away.  
  
"Tell me, Neville. what will we do once we know where Potter is?"  
  
"Isn't that obvious? The best of us will get there immediately. and not too few, of course. you know how powerful he is. We'll catch him, bring him here, give him the Dementor's Kiss and. oh, dunno. maybe drown his filthy body in the sea afterwards. I expect neither the Ministry nor the Community cares enough for that. murderer. to pay for feeding his remains."  
  
"Yes, we for once surely won't."  
  
Then the conversation became too quiet to understand anymore.  
  
After what he'd just heard, for a moment the prisoner just stared as he realised what had just happened.  
  
He wouldn't be killed today. Fine. But how long would they let him live? And, more important: At what cost had he just postponed his death?  
  
"What have I done?" Severus Snape whispered, looking defeated.  
  
The man buried his head in his hands and started sobbing, sobbing hard, like he'd done so often in this cruel, grey Azkaban cell already.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
The Quidditch match would be remembered for long.  
  
Harry Potter alias Henry Evans was swooping through the air on his Firebolt, refereeing the Quidditch match Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Naturally he wanted the Gryffindors, his team, to win; yet he was a fair referee, not favouring either team. Though he had a hard time not yelling advise at his kids.  
  
Not that he needed to.  
  
The children he was training were doing very well. The current score was 160:90 for Gryffindor. The game had been going on for a pretty long time, yet the snitch had not been seen.  
  
The Slytherins were seeing their rivals' sudden success in Quidditch with displeasure, booing every time a Gryffindor scored. The Ravenclaws only smiled, happy for them that they were, finally, playing better - remarkably better - than they used to. The Hufflepuffs showed a similar reaction of sympathy, even though it was not looking good for their own team.  
  
The Gryffindors in the stands were going crazy with joy. They were yelling their approval and jumping up from their seats any time a Gryffindor scored, or successfully hit a Bludger at an opponent, or did anything good for that matter. 'It's no wonder they're so bloody happy.' , Harry thought, 'It's the first time they can actually be proud of their Quidditch team, instead of ashamed.'  
  
Suddenly there was an uproar. Harry turned and saw what it was about. The snitch, flying near the Slytherin stands.  
  
Harry flew closer, so he, being the referee, would be able to see every detail. He saw Thomas fly there. He saw the Hufflepuff seeker fly there. He hoped there wouldn't be any trouble, because most fouls on seekers were done while they were about to catch the snitch, he thought, remembering the time Malfoy had grabbed his broom from behind. But surely such a thing would not happen during a Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match.  
  
Thomas was, Harry watched with delight, as fast as the Hufflepuff seeker, if not faster. The boy had learned a damned lot in training.  
  
And Thomas was the closer one of both seekers to the snitch. Harry grinned. His team was going to make it.  
  
Thomas was getting closer and closer, the other seeker a bit behind.  
  
Closer, closer.  
  
Suddenly Harry noticed Simon Zabini, who was standing in a crowd in the Slytherin's stands. He was leaning over the border, dangerously far. he pulled something out of his pocket. some dungbombs. he aimed at Thomas.  
  
He threw it straight at Thomas.  
  
Harry only stared, horrified. So did most spectators and several Quidditch players who had noticed the things coming from somewhere in the Slytherin stands.  
  
Luckily, Thomas saw the bombs coming flying towards him, fast. It was close, but the boy managed to dodge.  
  
Zabini would be awfully sorry, Harry decided. This would cost him lots of house-points. Harry, remembering the 'Norbert' incident in his first year, only Zabini's his house-mates would be properly mad at the boy because of it.  
  
Thomas stared at the Slytherin stands with horror, not knowing who the dungbombs had come from.  
  
Harry was only relieved Albus had been putting spell protections onto the pitch shortly before the games started for a few years now, or Zabini would probably have cursed Thomas.  
  
Zabini leant further forward in order to aim his next handful of bombs better. That was hardly noticed however, because all the teachers and students were standing now, yelling, leaning slightly forwards, staring at the attacked Gryffindor, absolutely terrified.  
  
Zabini, the next bombs already in his hands, leant further and further. aimed. leant a bit further. and further. until, with a helpless scream, he fell. and fell.  
  
Now Zabini had all attention. People were pointing and screaming at the falling boy, certain that the Slytherin would hit the ground soon, and hit it hard. probably die. The stands were very high. Most girls quickly clasped their hands over their eyes. Teachers were desperately trying to slow the boy down with a curse, wondering why the hell it wouldn't work. Both Draco Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore sprinted down the teachers' stands, though from the bottom of the pitch there would be nothing they could do.  
  
'Damn Albus and his bloody spell protection.' Harry thought as he leant forward to the most important dive he'd ever done. And hopefully it would be the fastest, too.  
  
It was damned hard to fly faster than Zabini was falling.  
  
Harry sped to the ground faster than he'd ever done before. He had to get to the boy, and soon. There was more at stake than only some stupid Quidditch match.  
  
He got closer to the boy. And closer. and faster. and also closer to the ground. He had to grab the boy. there was his arm. had to grab him NOW.  
  
Harry took one hand off the handle of his broom. damned dangerous at this speed. grab the boy. Harry grabbed Simon's arm fiercely. The boy's screams were so damned loud and terrified Harry's ears hurt. Soon the boy was clinging to Harry's Firebolt with both arms and legs. But the weigh of the Slytherin was too much for Harry. too much for his broom. Zabini pulled him down. he had to pull out. pull OUT!  
  
Harry finally managed, but only inches above the ground. He carefully turned the broom around, so now Zabini was on top and he was with his back to the ground. Harry slowed the broom down. finally stopped it.  
  
Harry realised he'd never, at no Quidditch match, hear the crowd cheer that loudly.  
  
He sprang off, panting hard. 'Wow!' Harry thought. 'I don't think I've ever flown that fast.'  
  
Simon Zabini was standing on the ground now, but still clutching the broom. He'd finally stopped screaming, but Harry saw that his pale face was tear- streaked.  
  
'No wonder.' He thought. 'The boy certainly expected to die.'  
  
"Twenty points. off Slytherin. for throwing dungbombs. at a Quidditch match. Mr Zabini." Harry said as well as he could, still exhausted from the dive.  
  
Zabini looked up, astonished. The man had just saved his life. and now took points off. Simon was not sure he was capable of speaking at the moment, and even if he was he would not have known what to say; so he didn't say anything and just stared at his DADA professor.  
  
The running figure of Draco Malfoy reached them first. The man had conjured up a stretcher and heaved his shocked student onto it. Then he gave Harry a nod and a grateful half-smile. Harry was a bit surprised by this gesture; yet he smiled back.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
It was at supper that day when it happened.  
  
Harry was sitting at the staff table, eating, stroking Sammy, who was around his neck, every now and then, and talking with Hermione and Albus, occasionally also with other teachers and even with Malfoy for a change. He ignored the whisper about his spectacular dive and the admiring looks students of all ages and houses had been giving him all the time since the Quidditch match that afternoon.  
  
Thomas had caught the snitch about five minutes after that accident.  
  
"I'm not sure you care much for what your 'Slimy git of a DADA teacher' thinks of you, but I am bloody proud of you, kids. All of you. This was a fabulous game." He had declared in the cabin when the game had been won.  
  
And they had been happy about that.  
  
Ronny Longbottom had even answered: "We're proud too, you know. Of you, I mean. Because. well, not everybody can dive like that. not to mention while riding a veteran broom like yours."  
  
Harry smiled, remembering the scene.  
  
Afterwards there had been a big party in the Gryffindor common room. Ronny Longbottom had come to his rooms, telling him that, as the official coach of the team, he was supposed to join, which Harry did. It had been fun.  
  
"You know, Albus. I'm having more and more fun in this position." Harry said.  
  
Albus smiled. "So I've noticed. You seem to get along with the Gryffindors rather well."  
  
"I do, they're fine kids. if they want to be." Harry confirmed with a chuckle.  
  
Albus sighed. "Yeah. at least some of us can still have fun in these days." he half whispered.  
  
Harry felt concerned at once. "How do you mean, some of us?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Tell me what's wrong, Albus." He pressed.  
  
"I've had a lot on my mind lately." Albus replied.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
Albus gave a grim smile. "Oh, you don't know when to stop, do you, Henry? Well, why not. Aurors keep telling me that. that Severus won't make it much longer. I'm surprised I haven't got notice of his death yet. I know he's not always the friendliest of people, but he is a very good person with a fine character. Life has been far too hard with him. and he just doesn't deserve it. And now the thought that he'll probably not make it much longer. life is depressing sometimes."  
  
"I know." Harry said.  
  
Albus looked at him and gave true, small smile. "I know that you know." He said. The smile widened. "Yet. I keep hoping it'll all be okay in the end. though I know there's no possible way it can. At least not for Severus, I fear. But he promised me he'd fight as long as he could. and he does have a strong mind."  
  
"You visited him?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes, I."  
  
But Albus never finished that sentence.  
  
Suddenly the doors burst open and ten men ran into the Hall. From the looks of their cloaks Harry recognised them as aurors of the Ministry.  
  
The students' stares went from their DADA teacher to the aurors and most were frightened as they suddenly burst in. Many girls and some boys started screaming.  
  
"What is the meaning of this, Mr Longbottom?" Albus roared at the leading auror.  
  
'So this is what Neville looks like today.' Harry thought, watching the tall, slender, blonde man.  
  
"DO NOT PANIK!!! NOTHING CAN HAPPEN TO YOU WHILE WE ARE HERE!!!" Neville yelled, trying to calm the students.  
  
There was no sound in the Great Hall of Hogwarts as the aurors approached the staff table. All students wanted to hear whatever explanation Mr Longbottom would give the headmaster.  
  
Harry was trying not to show his nervousness on his face. Aurors. There were ten aurors in the same room with him, a convict. But they couldn't be there because of him, right? No, of course not. It was probably just some business they had with Albus. Yes, that would be it. Albus was, after all, the headmaster of Hogwarts. but then why the show?  
  
They stopped, standing directly in front of the staff table.  
  
"Now would you please explain to me why the hell you are frightening my students like that?" Albus angrily asked.  
  
Neville Longbottom smiled grimly. "That should be obvious to you soon, headmaster."  
  
Then the famous auror turned towards Harry. Their gazes met. When Neville spoke, his voice was dangerously calm, but his eyes shone with obvious hatred.  
  
"Mr Harry Potter, you are under arrest of the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Harry paled.  
  
* * * +++ End of the chapter +++ * * * * * * *  
  
*  
  
* * * *  
  
* * * Author's Note:  
  
Whoa! This was so hard to write. but a lot of fun. I hope it also was fun to read. I'm sorry it took me so long to update. but it's getting harder and harder to write, and it seems I'm getting less and less time. But hey, I've finally got holidays! I'll see what I can do!  
  
Now was the chapter action filled enough? I tried, y'know. Anyway, I like it. especially the ending. Hope you do as well.  
  
Bye. and. Merry Christmas!!!  
  
Ottilchen 


	21. Chapter 20: Fugitive

Chapter 20: Fugitive  
  
. . .  
  
"Mr Harry Potter, you are under arrest of the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Harry paled.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
For a moment Harry Potter only stared into the hateful eyes of the auror, too shocked to react.  
  
They had found out.  
  
It had been one of his greatest fears that, some day, the Ministry of Magic would, somehow, discover his true identity. Now they had. How had they found out? Hadn't he made sure there was no way they could find him? He was under disguise, and nobody but his most trusted friends knew. And they would never tell the Ministry, never. Where was the leak, how had it happened?  
  
But it didn't really matter how, did it? All that mattered was the fact that they knew, and now they were there to get him. To arrest him. Again. But no, they wouldn't arrest him this time. They'd give him the Dementor's Kiss the instant he arrived there. Yes, that was the most likely thing to happen. And he, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, a fighter for the light and finally an innocent convict, would be worse than dead.  
  
It was then that something clicked in Harry Potter's mind, and it won over the overwhelming panic.  
  
He didn't want to die.  
  
He definitely didn't want to start a relationship with a dementor.  
  
So he just wouldn't let this happen.  
  
The Ministry of Magic would have no power over Harry Potter. Not this time.  
  
Colour finally came back into his face. With a quick plan already in his mind, Harry slowly, very slowly, stood up from his sitting position; never releasing Neville Longbottom's gaze. Nobody noticed him cast a good defence charm onto himself, since he was neither speaking the words nor using a wand.  
  
"Your looks have changed since I last saw you, Neville. And for the better, I might add." Harry stated, his voice calm and steady.  
  
In the background he saw all students and teachers staring at him, most looking more shocked than he felt. He could practically hear the questions zooming through the children's heads:  
  
'Oh my God! This man is Harry Potter, the evil dark wizard and world-wide known mass murderer? But that cannot be true; he's our DADA teacher! We were taught by a dangerous criminal all the time?! God help!'  
  
Neville looked even more furious after Harry's little comment.  
  
"I don't understand you, Potter. How can you be joking about your current situation? It's you who's going to die, not me, you know. You'll finally get what you deserve, you stupid murderer!" he spat in rage.  
  
Harry's offered a false smile. "I'd be surprised if you finally believed me this time, Neville, but I am not a murderer." He quietly said, but because of the absolute silence in the Hall it was heard by many. "And" , Harry added, "I don't think I'm going to die as just soon as you want me to, thank you very much."  
  
Neville sneered. His voice was getting louder and louder, until in the end he was almost yelling. "You think we'll have mercy with you? Well, think again, you monster. I wanted you to be properly punished when you were found guilty, but no, not the Boy-Who-Lived, he'll get better treatment of course! You were just imprisoned! For THREE BLOODY MURDERS, only Askaban! But this time they will listen to me! My position at the Ministry is a very good one, and anyway. . . everybody who knows your story - and those who do not yet know will hear it soon I can promise you - will agree with the Ministry that you deserve no less than the Kiss, Potter. And that's exactly what you will get!"  
  
Harry's face showed mixed emotions. Sadness, anger, and somewhere a little remain of his false smile could even be seen. "I disagree with very many things that you have just said, Neville." He answered. "And I wouldn't be so certain you will see me 'punished' the way you just suggested. In fact, I'm absolutely sure that you won't."  
  
"And how would that be?" Another auror asked the 'trapped' Harry Potter.  
  
Harry grinned. A real grin. "Oh, I'll show you, all of you. Just watch me."  
  
Neville Longbottom, clearly standing in Harry's way, was the first one hit by a strong 'Stupefy' charm. Several other aurors followed.  
  
Strangely enough, none of the quite advanced curses that were shot at Potter immediately seemed to have any effect on the man.  
  
It was Ronny Longbottom who ended the shocked silence in the Great Hall. "DAD!!!" he yelled, terrified that Potter, a known mass murderer, had just done something awful to his father.  
  
Many people followed. The Great Hall was suddenly filled with panicked screams as Potter and the aurors shot curses back and forth. Then the supposed to be murderer suddenly. . . vanished.  
  
Mor a moment, there was this shocked silence again.  
  
"B. . . but you c. . . can't apparate out of Hogwarts!" somebody stuttered.  
  
Soon the aurors were busy taking some nasty hexes off each other. Finally having been released of the 'Stupefy' curse, Neville Longbottom was probably the most furious of all. The students were terrified. Hermione Granger was busy hiding the relief in her expression, so was Minerva McGonagall. Draco Malfoy had gone even paler than he usually was, but for reasons that nobody would have thought of. Most other staff members were just shocked at the thought of a murderer having worked amongst them for months. . . without anyone knowing.  
  
Albus Dumbledore barely managed to keep from grinning widely as it occurred to him that, in all the trouble, nobody really was guarding the door, which the aurors had left open as they'd stormed in. Such fools they were.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry Potter did not stop running until he was off Hogwarts' grounds, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
It would be an understatement to say that he was surprised he'd come out of this 'incident' completely unharmed. Those aurors had, after all, been ten men fighting him alone. On the other hand, he knew most aurors were incompetent in those days. But really, leaving the door open! Those prats had put way too less effort into the really important things, and way too much into their 'Mighty Ministry Men' appearance.  
  
Such fools they were.  
  
All he had done was shoot a few rather harmless curses, let a very simple shield block what they shot, and then, as he grew tired of the game, cast a full silence charm that included his footsteps on himself, cast an invisibility charm, and plainly run out of the door. It had looked as if he had apparated.  
  
He really had expected finding a solution to this auror problem to be a bit harder.  
  
Then, Harry Potter reminded himself, the problem was not yet solved at all.  
  
The question what the hell he should do now still remained.  
  
Sitting down on the trunk of a fallen tree and still invisible, Harry pondered on his current situation.  
  
He couldn't possibly return to Hogwarts, that much was sure. The Ministry would probably guard the castle now, and anyway it was impossible to return there after all that had happened without anyone recognising him. No Hogwarts anymore. So Harry needed a place to stay, and he had to come up with something soon if he didn't want to spend the night in the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by creatures which he was sure not many knew. He didn't want to know. So first, come up with a place to live, even if it was only temporary for the night. He might come up with a better solution later if he didn't find a good option that evening.  
  
The second thing to do was definitely to contact Albus, or Herm, or Minerva. It didn't really matter who. But those three needed to know he was safe, and a bit of what he was doing. They'd be worrying to no end if he didn't tell them anything. But Harry had already decided he wouldn't tell them too much, in case the Ministry questioned them someday. Anyway he didn't want the Ministry to suspect they had anything to do with him or his escape from Askaban, or they'd be in really bad trouble.  
  
And then. . . well, he'd see what he could do. Maybe, Harry thought, he could even get his stuff from his rooms, which he was sure the Ministry was having a close look at right now. Well, they wouldn't find anything that was useful for them, and with a bit luck they'd even be too stupid to get their hands at the most valuable stuff anyway. Yet of course Harry knew he couldn't just walk in there and get them personally. . . but he'd come up with something. Perhaps Albus could smuggle them out of the castle for him. . . no, that was far too risky. If Albus got caught. . . Harry decided he'd find a spell that would also work for long distances. Somehow it would work. It had to. There was everything he owned in his rooms, and he couldn't live without at least the most important items.  
  
'Well' , Harry thought, 'That would be all. Now, where to go. . .'  
  
"Your thoughts are very troubled, Harry. Where are we? And what is this all about?" came a hiss from near Harry's shoulders. He jumped.  
  
Harry had not realised that Sammy was still wound around his neck. But of course, like usual, the snake had spent supper with him in the Great Hall.  
  
"What do you mean 'What is this all about'? You've been with me all the time, Sammy." Harry answered.  
  
"I've been with you, true, but I've fallen asleep after a while, while you were still eating, and now I wake up still around your neck but in the middle of a forest, and you have more worries on your mind than ever before since I know you. I want to know what's going on."  
  
Harry grinned. Only Sammy could sleep through an attack of ten aurors. Then Harry gave the snake a quick but complete report of what had just happened.  
  
"So we are looking for a place to stay?" Sammy asked after Harry had finished. "Well, I know a few caves. . . even some that are suitable for humans like you. . . near a big city somewhere in Australia. . . I've been there with the man that owned me before, you know. . . what was the place called. . ."  
  
Harry sighed. "Whatever it's called, Sammy, it won't be of any use for us if it's in Australia. I need to stay somewhere near. . . just in case something happens. . . something Voldemort, I mean. . . that's the very reason I ever returned to Hogwarts anyway, you know. . ." he explained.  
  
"Voldemort. . . the evil human who always tries to kill you, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes. . . though I don't think he is all human."  
  
"Oh."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"I need a place as near as possible to the castle, but still hard for the aurors to find, and very safe. That should be hard to find, I fear." Harry stated.  
  
They both thought about a solution.  
  
Several minutes later, Harry had yet not come up with any good plan. Hogsmeade would be near, but there were far too many people around for his liking. There he could not look out of a window without fearing to be seen, recognised. . . and caught. The Forbidden Forest would be the only other place near that he could think of. . . but he didn't like the idea of sleeping somewhere in that creepy place for only time would tell how long. Besides, he was afraid that he might just not wake up again someday because some monster had found a way through his protection. Also Harry found it was probable that the Ministry would take the time to search both Hogsmeade and the Forest for him very carefully, and he didn't want them to find anything if they did.  
  
"Do you remember the day you told me about your past, Harry?" Sammy suddenly asked.  
  
Harry looked at his snake and nodded, wondering why Sammy was thinking about that scene now.  
  
"Well, you told me about some big place right under Hogwarts. . . like a very big hall, I believe. Didn't you tell me you killed a Basilisk there? Well, how about that place?"  
  
Harry felt like kissing his snake.  
  
"You're a genius, Sammy, do you know that?" he exclaimed, grinning widely. "Brilliant idea."  
  
And it was. Nobody would think about the place. Not many people even knew about it, and those who did would certainly never consider looking for him there. Better even, nobody except for him and maybe Voldemort could go in there. It was just perfect for his purposes.  
  
Harry Potter would once again go to the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
The only problem was the fact that they could only go in there through Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He had to go to Hogwarts again. Go past the aurors, through several corridors. . . then into the bathroom, to the sink. . . and downwards. He hoped at least the Chamber wouldn't look any worse than he remembered it, which was bad enough.  
  
And Harry knew Sammy and he would meet several people. Well, they would see several people, but Harry would of course make sure that nobody could see them. He could also put that silencing spell onto him again; then he only had to be careful not to touch anyone, or hit any objects standing in the corridors, but the later should not be too hard. He was not that clumsy.  
  
"We will go tonight when it's dark, Sammy." Harry said, deciding to take all the risks that going back into the castle brought along. "We will go to the Chamber of Secrets."  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Neville Longbottom was in a very bad mood all evening.  
  
Sirius Black had been notified about Potter's second escape immediately of course, and he had personally come to Hogwarts. He was furious with Neville's failure.  
  
Then there was the damned security problem that Potter had just caused. The students were terrified. Neville understood their fear well, though. They had been taught by a murderer for months, they had constantly been in contact with Potter, they had been in constant danger of their lives. It had to be awful for them to know that they could have been hurt. . . or even killed. . . by that lunatic. . . and that any time they were around him. It was a wonder they were all unharmed, really. And his son had been one of Potter's students, too. . .  
  
Neville decided that if he ever got the chance, he would make sure Potter paid for it. For everything and everybody.  
  
But now there were other things that had to be taken care of immediately.  
  
The Ministry - him, together with Black and a few other high-ranked officials - had decided that all students would spend the night in the Great Hall for their safety. After all it was not that unlikely that Potter would come back to take his revenge, and the students had to be guarded. Neville had been surprised when Albus Dumbledore in person had argued that Potter would not dare to return to Hogwarts with all the aurors around, and that his students would feel more comfortable in their beds than in some sleeping bags on the floor. Many students complained too that they were not afraid of Potter, but Neville knew they were just trying to show off. Dumbledore's behaviour though. . . normally he tended to be a bit overprotective of his students, and now he seemed to think that he didn't need to put up any measures of protection at all, while a lunatic murderer was somewhere around. The man was definitely a bit mad. . . but well, in this case the Ministry's opinion counted more than Dumbledore's anyway, so it didn't really matter.  
  
Another problem were the kids' parents.  
  
It was up to the headmaster of course to inform them of what had happened, but of course most kids were writing frantic letters home before the man even got the chance. The students wanted to see their parents, to feel reassured. . . and the parents would be worried to no end too, Neville was sure. At least he was. He probably felt a bit better because he knew exactly what good a protection a group of well trained aurors could be, since he was leading them, but Neville was sure those who knew not much about the Ministry at all would feel safest with their children at home with them. Neville decided he would personally write them, too, and inform them about the new protection, and tell them not to worry. He liked Hogwarts a lot and wouldn't let some murderer who didn't deserve to live anyway cause the school to be closed. He would order hundreds of aurors here if that was the only way to reassure the parents not to take their kids home.  
  
Neville smiled grimly. Dumbledore would have tons of owls to answer, soon, and God knew how the press would react to all the mess once they found out. And they were famous for knowing about things so fast most people wouldn't have thought it possible.  
  
Neville expected they'd be there any time now.  
  
Poor Dumbledore.  
  
Currently, Neville knew, the headmaster was going through Potter's rooms with some professionals from the Ministry. Yes, those rooms were another problem. Of course every nook and cranny had to be searched for any hint on Potter's personality, and for deep dark magic that had to be got rid of as soon as possible, as not to put people in even more danger. So there were now Dumbledore and some of the best Dark Arts Fighters there were.  
  
And Neville knew they'd probably be working on those rooms for days.  
  
It had taken them two hours just to break the locking spell on the front door.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
It had already gone dark when Harry and Sammy walked through the secret passage leading up to the castle from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade. Harry had figured it would be easier to break into the shop and use the passage leading straight to a Hogwarts corridor, instead of using the front gate, having to avoid several aurors. And he had been right: Honeydukes had not been guarded at all. It had been easy.  
  
Arriving at the statue of the one-eyed witch, Harry regretted not having the Marauder's Map with him. Well, at least it was safely locked away in his little 'treasure box', so no auror should be able to get his ruddy hands at it anytime soon, he expected. They could not see him through the map. The disadvantage was the fact that he, too, could not see anybody with it. He hoped that the corridor he would come out in would not be guarded.  
  
But it was.  
  
There were several aurors walking around in that particular corridor. The men stared at the statue, dumbfounded, as it suddenly moved away and revealed, it seemed, a black hole in the wall. As suddenly as it had sprung aside, it moved back into place again. . . as if nothing had happened.  
  
Of course the men neither saw nor heard anything of Harry and his snake.  
  
Harry loudly clapped his hands a few times to check the silence spell that prevented everyone but Harry and Sammy to hear each other. There was no reaction from the aurors, who were still staring at the statue stupidly until one of them shrugged and said: "Well. . . probably just another magical object that keeps moving wherever it wants at this place. Typical Hogwarts." The other aurors agreed.  
  
Moving carefully, Harry did not have to shock anyone on his way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, though he did have to pass several Ministry officials. It had been particularly disturbing when he carefully rounded a corner only to almost run into a furious looking Deputy Minister Sirius Black, who kept walking awfully fast all around the place, checking on things and looking very much the important and respectable man he was supposed to be. Harry found that his 'Beloved Godfather' was not that man in any way.  
  
Luckily Moaning Myrtle did not notice him enter her territory, because if she had Harry was sure her shrill wails of "Won't you ever stop bothering me!" or something similar would have caught someone's attention.  
  
Getting the sink to move away was easy, too, and it was not long afterwards when he landed on the ground of the huge hall leading to the Chamber itself. His robe was as slimy and dirty as he remembered it.  
  
"That was interesting." Sammy spoke for the first time since their arrival.  
  
Harry smiled. "Yes, I agree."  
  
"So. . . this is the Chamber of Secrets? I thought it looked. . . different."  
  
"No, this is not the Chamber, yet. . . just a dirty old hall leading there."  
  
"Oh. . . good."  
  
So they made their way through the cave. The stones that had crushed down in Harry's second year were still lying there, but Harry had no problems carefully taking them aside with a good spell.  
  
Harry grinned and Sammy hissed approvingly as, a few minutes later, the entrance opened at Harry's orders.  
  
He was once again standing in the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
His new home, at least until everything was over.  
  
And now Harry Potter had a lot to do.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Albus Dumbledore found it harder and harder not to show his worry on his face. He was not worried about the same thing as most others, though. He was not worried that a crazy mass murderer would attack his students. He was not worried that his former DADA teacher might have cast tons of very dangerous dark curses onto the castle. No, Albus was worried for his friend. Worried that he would find no place to stay, would get no proper things to eat and to drink. . . would live on rats. . . just like Sirius Black had done in that situation. Or worse, what if Harry got caught. . . he had escaped very easily this time, but next time the aurors got the chance, they would be more careful. Even Harry Potter could be overpowered if his opponents were too many and too powerful, Albus thought sadly. Luckily the 'boy' was good at taking care of himself.  
  
At the moment, Albus was sitting in Harry's living room, on the bright green sofa. Minerva was sitting next to him, and they were talking. It would have been more comfortable, though, if there were more pleasant things to talk about, and if there were less aurors around. And if he could stop pretending things. . . like hating Harry Potter, or fearing his friend. . . or like wanting the Ministry to discover all the little secrets about these rooms. But he had to go through this now. And he should be glad it was only this. . . God knew how worried Harry had to be at the moment.  
  
"The aurors do not seem to make much progress, Albus." Minerva said, sounding grim, but Dumbledore read reassurance in her eyes.  
  
He smiled back grimly. Minerva knew exactly what he was thinking about at the time. "Yes, my dear Minerva, it certainly seems that way." He said. "And I'm glad it does." He whispered so quietly he could be sure nobody but Minerva heard it.  
  
A moment later the door opened and Neville Longbottom walked in, looking every bit the powerful auror people believed him to be. Just like Sirius Black, he had spent most of the evening wandering between the Great Hall, where all students were staying, the many Hogwarts entrances that were all specially well guarded, and Harry's rooms.  
  
All aurors immediately greeted Neville with a respectful 'Sir!', which Albus found pretty funny, having known the boy for so long. Minerva, too, seemed to be amused by this.  
  
"Why don't you sit down, Neville, and talk to us?" Albus offered with a smile.  
  
"No, thank you, Albus, but I've only come to check on the progress we are making here. Got any further?" he asked.  
  
"No, not at all. And I fear I cannot help much here at all. Your people really are professionals, there is not much that I know and they don't." Albus lied.  
  
Neville sighed. "Well, that was to be expected. Potter must have a damned great knowledge of deep dark magic, after everything he's. . . done. His curses will not be easy to break, I'm sure. But our men will manage somehow. Deputy Black will make them work on this until they do, believe me. He is really obsessed with the idea of capturing Potter. . . boy, he hates him, I can tell you. But I think I'd react pretty similar if a person I. . . well, loved. . . turned into. . . what Potter is now, if you know what I mean. But anyway, you don't need to worry about these rooms at all, that problem will be solved sooner or later."  
  
"Yes." Albus replied, "We can only hope."  
  
Minerva smiled at the irony of this conversation.  
  
"So Albus, how are you holding up in this mess? It must be damned hard for you. . . being the headmaster of this place, I mean."  
  
Now it was Albus' turn to sigh. "Yes, it is." He answered. "The place is full of security, the students are panicking, everybody is worried, I expect to get death threads from the parents soon. . . just about everything is going wrong. I'm just glad the press hasn't arrived yet, but that too is probably only a matter of time."  
  
The door opened and closed again, and Sirius Black came in, looking even angrier than before. He got the same 'Sir's Neville had.  
  
Sirius Black glared at his best auror as soon as he noticed him sitting there and chatting calmly. Neville saw this and paled. . . had he done something else wrong?  
  
"What is it now?" he carefully asked the man. Albus and Minerva turned around to face the Deputy Minister, who they both had not noticed before.  
  
"What it is?" Black burst out so loudly everyone stopped working for a moment and turned around curiously.  
  
"Your stupid men are completely incompetent, that's the big problem here, Longbottom!" he raged.  
  
Neville defended his people at once. "My men are incompetent? And why would that be?" he calmly asked.  
  
"Why?" Black shouted now, "Why? BECAUSE THEY LET POTTER INTO THE CASTLE, LONGBOTTOM, THAT'S WHY!!!"  
  
Neville's face became white. "P. . . Potter is. . . here?" he squeaked, terrified. "B. . . But. . . how?"  
  
"I'll tell you how!" Black growled.  
  
** +++ **  
  
Sirius Black walked down a corridor and approached the security Longbottom and he had placed in front of the one-eyed witch. He would have to spend all night running around in the ruddy castle and checking on things, it seemed, and the thought annoyed him. And all because Longbottom, his supposedly best auror, had let Potter escape. . .  
  
"So, anything wrong here? Anything unusual?"  
  
"No, Mr Black, Sir. Everything in order." the auror answered and Black was about to walk away again, when something caught his ears and made him turn around again sharply.  
  
"You should have told him about that statue moving. . ." one man whispered.  
  
"Nah." The guy he'd just spoken to replied, "Moving things are nothing unusual here. . . why bother him with it? The man is busy enough as it is. . . oh shit. . . how the hell did he just hear that?"  
  
Sirius was back with the aurors very fast. "Excuse me?" he said, "But did you just say a statue moved aside? You wouldn't happen to be talking about this very statue, would you?" he asked, his voice rising with anger, pointing at the one-eyed witch."  
  
"Uh. . . yes, Sir, this statue. . . but we thought it was not important, so we. . ."  
  
"It moved aside?" Black interrupted, "Just like this?" And he pointed his wand at the statue and muttered the password. It opened.  
  
"Yes, like this." Came the answer.  
  
"Really?!" Black said, getting louder and angrier. "And you thought that was just a normal thing for a statue to do?"  
  
"Well. . ." an auror replied, "Everything moves here, doesn't it. . ."  
  
"And what do you think is this thing behind this damned statue?"  
  
The men looked startled at the Deputy Minister's reply. "Well. . . a big, black hole in the wall?"  
  
"It's not a fucking hole in the wall, you great prats! It's a secret passage!!! Why do you think we wanted you to guard this corridor?" he yelled.  
  
"A. . . a secret p. . . passage?" some started to stutter. "B. . . but then. . . then. . ."  
  
"EXACTLY!" Black yelled. "YOU FOOLS JUST LET POTTER ENTER HOGWARTS!!!"  
  
And with that the Deputy Minister just stormed off. He needed to talk to some people.  
  
** +++ **  
  
"So he's in here now." Neville stated, finally having regained his self- control. "Oh my God. . . that's the worst thing that could happen."  
  
"Yes." Black spat. "And we need to do something about it."  
  
"What is there to do?" Albus said. "Hogwarts is safer than ever before as we speak. Even if Potter really is in the castle, what could he possibly do? There are Ministry aurors all over the place, Sirius, and some of the best men you have, if I got that right."  
  
"Yes, I can assure you that this is true. Only the most capable men here." Neville confirmed.  
  
"Good." Albus continued, "Then what is there to worry about, really? Potter might be as evil and ruthless as it is possible to be, but the man is certainly not dense, or he would not have made it so far. I'm sure he would not risk everything he has reached by walking the best men of the Ministry of Magic straight into the arms."  
  
"There is no telling what Potter will do." Black argued, "The man is totally insane, that much should be clear to everyone of you by now, or do you not agree?"  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"You see! And if Potter had nothing planned, then why go into the castle again? He must be here for some purpose, or else he would not have come. Just going as far as Potter did and enter the castle was a great risk. . . or at least it would have been, if your men were not quite so deaf." Black said, glaring at Neville.  
  
Neville looked down.  
  
"So we know Potter will do something. And as long as I am responsible for this great mess, I will make sure nobody gets hurt, and there will be no successful attack, because I will increase all security measures, especially those concerning the students. In some way, headmaster, the attitude you are showing tonight makes me doubt you care enough for the safety of those under your care. I might want to do something to ensure that your unacceptable stupidity does not put them in even more danger than they already are in." Black spat.  
  
It was one of the rare occasions that made Albus Dumbledore seriously angry.  
  
"You have no idea what you are talking about!" he replied, his voice sounding as perfectly calm as always, but his eyes shining with anger. "If you knew anything about me, Sirius Black, then you would know that the students of this school have always been, are now, and will always be my greatest concern. I would never, believe me, never do anything if I thought there might be even the slightest bit of a chance that the consequences of my action could harm them in any way. But in this case, Mr Black, I am 100%ly sure that Harry Potter would never, not ever, deliberately hurt a child at this school. That is why I request that you do not increase the number of your security men at all. Those men look ready for war with all the weapons they are carrying, you must admit it is ridiculous if anything, and certainly not necessary. Besides it only frightens the children more than it helps them feel safe."  
  
The anger slowly faded from Albus Dumbledore's eyes.  
  
After a moment of stunned silence, a bright grin suddenly appeared on Sirius Black's face.  
  
"If that really is your opinion, headmaster, then I'm sincerely glad the matter does not lie in your hands. It is not enough that the students really feel safe, they must be safe. I will do what I find the right thing to do, and I'm sorry to say that nobody, really nobody else has anything to say in that matter. That is my last word." Black said with a tone of authority.  
  
As another person suddenly spoke up, all of the very brave Ministry aurors in the room let out terrified screams of shock, and most tried to hide behind whatever they found the best thing near to hide behind.  
  
"Well, Sirius, I must agree with Albus though. I will certainly never attack any Hogwarts students, simply because I do not see any reason I should. There is no need to increase the security. And I agree with Albus in another point, too. I can very well imagine the effect those wannabe Dark Arts fighter you've spread all over the place must have on the children, especially the younger ones. Though personally I was more tempted to laugh out loud than to scream in fear as I first came in contact with them. . . but well. Anyway, how are you holding up, Sirius? This must be a very stressful evening for the Deputy Minister of Magic."  
  
It was half a minute before anyone reacted other than staring at Harry Potter's head, which seemed to be floating in mid-air in front of a wall.  
  
"Potter!!!" Sirius Black suddenly screamed in shock.  
  
Not a second later the first dangerous curses were aimed at the head.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry had taken a quick walk, having a close look at everything in the chamber again. Of course there was nothing evil in there anymore, like there had been in second year. . . but Harry still didn't really trust the place.  
  
Probably the most annoying thing he found was the half-rotten body of a full grown Basilisk. Somehow Harry hadn't expected it still to be there. . . or to stink quite that much. Just how long did it take for a dead Basilisk to rot till there was nothing left?  
  
Harry cast a quick charm so the thing wouldn't spread its smell everywhere. He'd deal with the disgusting body later.  
  
After half an hour of looking at every wall and each of the gigantic stone pillars very closely, and even casting a few of the most powerful magic detection spells he could come up with, Harry had finally been convinced that there were no hidden spells anywhere. Finally he was satisfied, and he had sat down on one of the huge feet of the statue of Salazar Slytherin, to think.  
  
"What will you do now, Harry?" Sammy hissed.  
  
Harry sighed. "Well. . . I think I'll check on the situation." He said.  
  
A moment of silence.  
  
"I do not understand, Harry. Have you not been doing that for the past half of an hour?" Sammy replied.  
  
"Not like that, Sammy." Harry enlightened the snake on his plans, "I've done everything I could to make sure this place is safe. . . which it apparently is and has been al the time. Now I want to know what's going on outside this hall. . . up in the castle. I think I'll check on my rooms. . . there'll probably be lots of aurors now, and I want to see how they're doing. . . and what they're doing to my belongings. . . and make sure they do not succeed. Then I want the most valuable stuff here with me. . . which will be about everything I own. . . except perhaps for the furniture. . . but well, I'll see."  
  
"But isn't that too dangerous?" Sammy objected. "Those evil people will capture you, and imprison you again, will they not? Is that not what they usually do? Then you cannot just walk in there and take your belongings out, or can you?"  
  
Harry actually smiled. "Have I ever told you that you're an extraordinarily bright snake, Sammy?"  
  
"No."  
  
"That was a rhetorical question."  
  
"A what?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Never mind. Anyway, what you said was right. . . I can not just walk in there and out again. I am not actually planning to go there. . . I will just seem to be there. Or, to be precise, my head will. It will only be a picture, though, so they cannot harm me at all. Not the tiniest risk, Sammy. The real me, down here, will seem in some kind of trance, I've read. . . never done the spell before, you know. . . and the image of my head will be able to see everything going on. . . even talk, I believe. It will be interesting to try out. I'll try to apparate everything here. That should not be easy, though. If it doesn't work at all, because of the trance, I'll just have to try again once I'm. . . awake again. We'll just see, shall we?"  
  
Sammy gave a nod. "If you say so, that will probably be fine with me. Your plans always seem to work satisfyingly well."  
  
Harry smiled at the compliment.  
  
"Then should I go off your shoulders now?" Sammy asked. "Then you can get yourself into that. . . trance."  
  
"Good idea, mate." Harry agreed. After Sammy had slid off the man's shoulders, Harry got himself as comfortable as possible on the ground, closed his eyes, and concentrated.  
  
** +++ **  
  
The first dangerous curses were aimed at Harry's head.  
  
"Hey!!! . . . Calm down, will you? There is no point in what you are doing!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
After a while, Sirius Black shouted "Stop!!!", and there was immediate silence.  
  
Harry turned his head around. There were several little holes in the empty wall behind him, where the spells had hit.  
  
For a while everybody stared at the imaginative head of the fugitive, while Harry Potter stared at Sirius Black all the time. Sirius Black, his godfather, the man that had once been the closest to a father he had. The man that had once been one of his best friends, a trusted one, a loved one. The man that, Harry felt, had betrayed him in the end. . . because of the power the Ministry of Magic had offered.  
  
Now the man was nothing but a Ministry robot.  
  
"I don't know what you are doing, or how you did this, Potter, but I can assure that we will catch you in the end, and that you will get what you deserve! You're a bloody murderer, Potter! How could you. . ." the Deputy Minister suddenly spat full of hatred.  
  
Harry blinked. His face's expression turned from one of self-confidence to one of sadness as he spoke: "The last time we talked we were still on first name basis, do you know that? And now I'm just 'Potter' to you? You were my godfather once. . ."  
  
"I'm not the godfather of a threefold murderer!" Sirius almost yelled.  
  
Now it was Harry who got angry. "No, you aren't the godfather of a threefold murderer, Sirius, because I never murdered anyone! Do you get it? I'm innocent!!! And I want to talk properly to the lot of you now, if you don't mind." He said in a tone that matched Black's.  
  
"You came to talk?" Neville suddenly said. It was the first time in Harry's presence that he had said anything. "What is there to talk about, Potter? Did you come to threaten us? What are you planning, murderer?" he spat.  
  
Harry smiled slightly. Finally they got to the point. "I'm not threatening anybody, Neville. . . more the opposite, in fact. . ."  
  
"Why are you in Hogwarts, then?" Black interrupted.  
  
Harry paled. "W. . . What?"  
  
"We know you're in the castle, Potter. You were seen." Albus Dumbledore said, fake anger in his voice.  
  
"Oh. . . well, it doesn't really matter, does it? You won't find me anyway. And I won't give you much time to search, because I'll be gone as soon as I'm done here. It just gets harder to apparate objects from one place to another the further away you are. . . and I want my thing with me, don't I? Besides I wanted to look how you are doing. . . and how you are treating my things."  
  
PLOP!  
  
Everybody turned around to see that the treasure box that had been brought there from Harry's office had suddenly vanished. The man who had been working on it gave out a shocked gasp.  
  
"Aah. . . it seems to work excellent, doesn't it?" Harry declared cheerfully.  
  
"Stop his Dark Magic!" Black ordered, starting to panic.  
  
Immediately curses were pointlessly shot at the imaginative head again. Only Neville Longbottom thought a bit further that his colleagues and put a good safety charm on the thing nearest to him. . . the bed.  
  
"Aah, but I do need something comfortable to sleep on, don't I, Neville? Let's see whose curse is stronger. . ."  
  
With a PLOP!, the bed, too, was gone.  
  
After a few minutes of Plops, curses from the aurors and loud angry shouts like "Somebody stop this now!!!", mostly produced by Sirius Black, the room, as well as the office next door, were completely rid of everything. . . really everything. The aurors were exhausted, Black was furious, Minerva McGonagall looked astonished and even though Albus Dumbledore's face was grim, there was an amused sparkle in his eyes, which could only be read by those who knew him well.  
  
"And now the talking part, okay?" Harry said.  
  
But nobody felt like answering after all that had just happened.  
  
"Fine, then it will be a monologue, it's not like I care. Just listen to me: I will not attack any students, nor anybody else. You do not need to place any special security on anyone. Let the students have their freedom, okay? It's awful when everything is cancelled or forbidden. . . I remember it only too well from third year. I give you my word that I will never hurt anybody. . . you'll just have to trust me with that. Then, I do not exactly know how I'll get around. . . having to deal with the fucking situation you've just brought me in and all. . . though I must say I don't think I'll stick to every stupid rule of yours. . . that's just become impossible for me to do, as you probably realise as well as I do. You must excuse that, but I see no other choice on my part. Yet that should not worry you the least. I can only repeat that I will not hurt anybody in the progress. . . believe me, I'd rather get caught. Then I must tell you that I will not leave you a way to contact me, that would only bring disadvantages for me. . . I'm sure you understand that. If there's anything I want you to know, like if I'm not pleased with something you're doing. . . or if there's anything I want you to do for me, I'll come up with some way to let you know. Okay?"  
  
Every body just stared. Even Albus seemed astonished by what Potter was saying.  
  
"Fine then. Now, I've made it to one of my main tasks to protect the world against Voldemort, so now that there's no more teaching to be done, I'll spend all my time preparing and training for the attacks I know he is already planning. I will, of course, also try to get some information on Voldemort and his group of Death Eaters. I might tell you some of them. . . or I might not. . . that depends on the things I find out, and on your behaviour. So if you want to know about what I'm doing, you better behave. I'll check on you."  
  
Stunned silence.  
  
"Now, stand at ease!" he commanded amused, and with one more POP, the imaginative head of Harry Potter vanished.  
  
Yet people kept staring at the space it had been.  
  
"Now, that didn't sound the least like the speech a normal fugitive gives the investigators." Neville suddenly stated.  
  
Sirius Black glared at him.  
  
** +++ **  
  
It was several minutes later when Harry Potter finally woke up. He looked around and saw that all things he had apparated over were lying somewhere on the floor around him. After the treasure box had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, Sammy had fled onto his master's body, so there wouldn't be any objects landing on him. Harry grinned, remembering the shocked faces of all those stupid aurors.  
  
"All went well, I take it?" Sammy asked.  
  
"Yes." Harry answered. "All went fine. Very fine, in fact. . . you should have seen their faces."  
  
"I've been guarding your emotions." Sammy informed. "Very different, they were. First sadness and anger. . . blinding anger. . . then only amusement. Your visit must have been very strange indeed."  
  
Harry nodded. "It was." He confirmed.  
  
"So. . . what are you doing now?"  
  
"Now? Well. . ." Harry had a look at his clock, which was lying near. "Now I'm going to sleep. It's late, and God knows I'm awfully tired. But tomorrow, Sammy. . . tomorrow will be a ver busy day."  
  
"Why, if I may ask?" Sammy hissed.  
  
"Why? Well. . . we're getting company, I've decided. I'm not going to be the only human living in the Chamber of Secrets." Harry answered with a small smile, thinking about what he had talked about with Albus at breakfast that very same morning. Hopefully there would not be much damage beyond repair done, but Harry knew anyone was bound to have changed after years in Askaban. He certainly had.  
  
Sammy wondered what exactly her master meant by 'getting company', but the snake didn't ask, because her master had already taken off his robes and slumped into bed.  
  
+ + + + + + + + + + +  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
HA! Another chapter done. . . hard enough it was, hoped you like it. They're getting longer and longer, I notice. . . but well. Thanks for reading!!! And. . . I'm sorry it took me so long. . . especially after that cliffhanger.  
  
I'll keep writing!  
  
You do know who Harry's going to get, don't you?  
  
Do me a favour and review, okay?  
  
Ottilchen 


	22. Chapter 21: Hogwarts and Azkaban

Chapter 21: Hogwarts and Azkaban  
  
When Harry woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was wonder where the hell he was, who he was with and if there was any danger about. Because he was definitely not in his bedroom at Hogwarts. . . this was his bed he was lying in, though. Strange. Why would anyone kidnap him and take his bed along? Harry carefully looked around from his position in the bed, not moving an inch - he didn't want them to know he was awake as long as it could be avoided.  
  
Harry blinked sleepily. He knew this place. . . he'd been there before. It was. . .  
  
There were dozens of huge stone pillars connecting the floor with the ceiling, which was so high Harry could hardly see it. There was a statue that was just as big standing near him. It seemed to be. . . Salazar Slytherin.  
  
Salazar Slytherin?  
  
Harry punished his stupidity by giving his head a little punch with his hand, as he realised exactly where he was; and he also remembered why he was there, quickly recalling the events of the last day.  
  
Aurors. . . fleeing. . . the Chamber. . . talking to Sirius. . . getting his stuff. Then going to bed, totally exhausted, after such an eventful day.  
  
"Are you okay?" Sammy, who had been sleeping at his feet, suddenly hissed. "Why were you so confused a moment ago? Anything wrong?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Nah. . . I'm fine. Just took me a while to. . . take in the situation."  
  
Harry got out of bed, dressed, tried and failed to get his hair neat, and sat down on his bright green sofa. He was hungry. He usually ate with the rest of the Hogwarts staff. Harry did own a fridge, but since he could go to the kitchen anytime he felt he needed extra food, which was not often, his fridge was empty most of the time. Now it was. Taking in breakfast in the Great Hall was a ridiculous idea - even under disguise. And he didn't want to go past the aurors to the kitchen - Harry Potter would never risk his freedom for a sandwich.  
  
Harry decided that the perfect idea would be to get some food from a Muggle supermarket or something. But should he steal something? And he couldn't use magic in the Muggle world, for more than one reason. He agreed with everybody else that magic was to be hid from the Muggles at any cost, and he was sure the Ministry would get track of him and he didn't want to find a different supermarket every time he needed to go shopping. Of course he could cast a memory charm on every Muggle in the supermarket, but that would take too much time. . . and it just wasn't right.  
  
The best way out was money. . . then he could go shopping like any Muggle, and nobody would suspect a thing.  
  
But where to get money from? Should he rob a Muggle bank? Harry's morals rejected any plans of his that contained stealing.  
  
He saw another way, though. The way was dangerous, very dangerous, and it would be far from easy. . . but it would solve more than only that problem, and though it was clearly against the rules, Harry found it okay to do it.  
  
After all, he would only get back what was, although the Ministry had laid claim to it many years ago, still his, as far as Harry was concerned. He was, after all, an innocent convict, and it had been wrongfully taken from him.  
  
Harry decided that, in his situation, even though it was extremely risky, breaking into Gringotts was a wise thing to do. Only if he succeeded, of course.  
  
But he would at least try to finally get his wand back, and he would get the money from Mr Henry Evans' vault, which he was sure the Ministry had already taken too, now.  
  
Albus would not have had the time to prevent them from doing so this time.  
  
And Harry was right assuming that.  
  
But it would not be wise to rush things now. . . one had to be careful when they planned to break into the safest place of the world, and get out of it unharmed afterwards. And, Harry decided, he would do so after he had got Snape. He knew he had to get him from Azkaban soon. . . the earlier, the better. . . and who knew, perhaps the man could even assist him.  
  
So Harry Potter had made up an acceptable plan for the future already, concerning his well-being in the Chamber of Secrets. . .  
  
The only problem he had no plan in mind for yet was the first one he had come up with that morning:  
  
What should he eat now? He still had no breakfast. . .  
  
** +++++ **  
  
The students, too, did not feel well at all.  
  
It was ten o'clock now, and they were still in the Great Hall. They had not left the huge room since supper last evening. . . when their DADA teacher's true identity had been discovered. . . and the man had - successfully - fled from the Ministry aurors.  
  
Though they knew it was supposedly all for their own safety only, and though they were not pleased by the idea of a powerful lunatic Dark Wizard lurking behind a corner and waiting for the next best chance to take revenge, Leon Creevey, Ronny Longbottom and Martin Whitby all agreed that this was getting too far. Everyone was in a bad mood. They had not been allowed to shower, or to change their clothes. . . God, they could not even use the loo without being accompanied by a teacher.  
  
Some girls were crying. . . they feared that Potter would come back to get them. All teachers were busy trying to calm people if necessary, and entertain them, since things were getting boring. Well, of course they were. The kids had had no chance to do anything but chat all evening and morning. They were getting tired of doing nothing.  
  
Of course the teachers had given them a long talk about the 'Potter thing' already. The result of that was that they all now knew the long story of Harry Potter. They knew about him destroying the Dark Lord at age one. . . about his childhood, having to live with his Muggle relatives that he hated. . . about his youth, being known as the boy-who-lived, famous wherever in the wizarding world he went. . . fighting the Dark Arts on several occasions. . . then, after school, handing over Dark Wizards to the Ministry for damned much money, believing they were Death Eaters - that were supporters of the Dark Lord Potter had defeated as a baby. Then, they heard - though they had known that before, of course - about what Potter was most famous for: Flipping out, brutally murdering Arthur and Molly Weasley. . . and their son, his own best friend, Ron Weasley. Getting thrown into Azkaban for that. . . and mysteriously breaking out years later, changing appearance. . .  
  
And the part that concerned them all: How the murderer under disguise started to work at Hogwarts, as the DADA teacher. . .  
  
Many thoughts of course that were probably going though everyone's heads were things like: 'I could have been killed anytime. . .' or 'God, I even started to like that. . . that murderer. . . at some point!'.  
  
Professor Granger seemed to be trying especially hard to cheer them up. . . though she, too, was behaving a bit. . . odd. She simply refused to give any command about the murderer and what was most likely to happen now. Leon had been watching her while the other teachers tried to gently 'explain' to them about Potter. While the others were talking about Potter's youth, she had looked sad. . . very sad. . . but then when it ended with Potter killing those three people. . . her expression turned to what was definitely anger. Yet she did not say anything about what had happened.  
  
But no matter how strange she behaved when the topic turned to Potter murdering the three Weasleys, the students were very grateful that Professor Hermione Granger was there with them all the time, for she really did the best job comforting people. Even the older students felt better when they heard her kind words directed to all of them, and watched her attempts to cheer them up, though they would never admit it, of course. At the moment, Professor Granger was amongst the students once again, holding a first year Hufflepuff girl in a tight embrace. The three Gryffindor friends recognised her as the girl they had found sobbing in a corner on the very first day of the school year, just before their very first lesson with Evans. . . no, Potter. She had been so upset because the teacher had threatened her to write to her parents because she had been late to class.  
  
"B. . . But. . . he always seemed so. . . so nice!" she wailed into Professor Granger's shoulder, who, it seemed, didn't mind that at all. "He. . . he even. . . you know, he apologised, for. . . for what he did. . . what he said he would do. . . the first day. . . he said that. . . that he just did that to. . . to set an. . . example. . . for us. . . so we would behave in class. . . and pay attention. . . because it was. . . important, so we'd survive in the world. . . because there are so many. . . Dark Wizards around. . . the evil ones, you know. . . and now. . . now. . . I can't believe that he. . . he's. . . he's one of them!" the girl sobbed. Professor Granger whispered something into her ear, but that was too quiet for anyone but her to hear. Yet after whatever soothing words the professor had just spoken, the girl seemed to feel better and nodded thankfully at her.  
  
Professor Granger set off to the next person that wanted to talk to her.  
  
It was only a few minutes later when the strangest thing happened. Professor Malfoy, the serve, unpopular potions teacher with Gryffindor hair colours (a reminder of the most embarrassing duel of his life), suddenly rose from the chair he'd been sitting on and reading some book. He used his wand to enlarge the table, then levitated his chair onto the middle of it. Malfoy climbed up and sat down on the chair, now sitting so high everybody could see him well. Everybody, including the staff, stared. Putting his wand at his throat, he cast a 'Sonorus' charm, so everybody could hear what he was saying.  
  
"Now." the voice boomed, and a small smile appeared on his face, "You seem slightly bored. Do you want me to tell you a story?"  
  
Now people were looking as if he'd grown a second head. Malfoy cared about how they were feeling? Malfoy was ready to tell a story. . . for his students? But then, at second thought. . . A story by Professor Malfoy? How would that end up?  
  
"I know how this will start." Ronny muttered. "This is the story of how some loony old wizard back in the sixteenth century invented the forgetfulness potion, and anyone who dares not to pay attention will get hundreds of point off their houses, unless they're from Slytherin of course!!!" He received small snicker from his friends.  
  
Then Malfoy continued his talk. "The contents of this story are based on facts."  
  
A loud groan from everybody.  
  
"You don't want to hear it?" Malfoy asked.  
  
Many dared to shout "No!" loudly.  
  
"You don't even want to hear it if the title is 'How I flew a broom for the first time'? Because it's really interesting. . . as far as I am concerned, at least. I almost collided with a helicopter, you know. . . yes, it was really close. . ." Malfoy announced, his smile widening.  
  
There was silence as people thought about it. Did they or didn't they want to hear about that? But then, why not? It was not like there was any better thing to do at the moment anyway. . .  
  
"What the hell is a helicopter?" somebody asked.  
  
"Well, it's a Muggle invention. . . many of you probably wouldn't know about it. . . anyway, they use it to fly, and there are these propellers, always spinning around. . ." he started.  
  
Soon everybody was caught up in the funny story, forgetting their worries for once. That occasion caused many, including a very pleased looking Hermione Granger, to change their opinion of Draco Malfoy, at least a bit.  
  
Harry Potter found it incredibly practical, too, for people would not notice him apparating food to his Chamber so soon when they were distracted. They would of course notice soon afterwards, but he knew he'd scare them to death if he let himself be seen.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Sammy the snake crawled around in the Chamber, pleased with herself and the rest of the world. She just loved this room, with its high stone pillars, and the huge statue of the Dark Wizard. The only thing the didn't like about the enormous hall was the big dead snake. Harry had told Sammy that he had killed it when he was twelve. so the evil dead thing must have laid there for quite a while. Just disgusting, Sammy thought. But Harry had promised he'd get rid of it somehow.  
  
It was only a few minutes after the snake had got himself comfortable on his 'master's' bed, when he had a vision. It was not only words this time, but pictures.  
  
###  
  
The monster was sitting in its big, red armchair once again, staring into the fire. It looked like it was pondering something over. Sammy read its emotions. The monster was angry. no, furious. Something very bad must have happened to it, Sammy thought.  
  
The monster held something in its inhuman hands. Sammy knew what it was. most full grown humans read it on a regular basis. Harry certainly did. The parchment, Sammy knew, was referred to as newspaper. It contained information of what was going on in the world, written down, for everybody to know. everybody who had the newspaper ordered. That was the reason so many humans spent their money on the things. They wanted knowledge.  
  
If the snake had been able to read, she would have found out that it was the 'Daily Prophet', reporting that 'Hogwarts teacher turns out to be Harry Potter!!!'. The title on the front page was written in big, black ink. Under it, but smaller, stood: 'Potter escapes the Ministry again. Is our government not capable of handling the situation?'  
  
But what Sammy could clearly 'see' was the fact that all of the monster's anger was connected to the newspaper. 'Must be really bad information in there.' The snake thought.  
  
The last thing Sammy saw was the monster touching the picture of a black skull on his left forearm with the forefinger of his right hand, summoning a Death Eater. Then everything became black.  
  
###  
  
When Sammy woke up, she saw that Harry was already back. . . and there was a damned lot of food.  
  
"Taking a nap, Sammy? Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." The man said cheerfully. The last few minutes had been very amusing for him.  
  
"I had a vision." Sammy hissed.  
  
Harry's expression got more serious. "What about? Nothing bad, I hope?"  
  
"I. . . I don't really know. There was this monster. . . this very angry monster. . . it looked much like you described Voldemort to me. . . I think it could have been Voldemort. He was very angry about something. . . he was reading a newspaper. . ."  
  
So Sammy told Harry everything she could remember about the vision.  
  
"He touched the black skull on his right forearm? Then he must have summoned some Death Eaters. . . or all of them. You wouldn't happen to know, who, I suppose?" Harry asked, having heard the story.  
  
Sammy shook his head.  
  
Harry sighed. "Well, at least we know that he knows about me having been at Hogwarts, and having escaped the aurors again. And from his reaction he didn't seem to like that." A small true smile formed on his face. "God, how I love to piss him off. . ." he hissed.  
  
There was silence for a while, which Sammy used to look at the tons of food happily.  
  
"Thank you, Sammy." Harry suddenly said.  
  
Sammy turned to look at him. "For what?"  
  
"For telling me what you see. . . for talking to me. . . hell, just for being here with me."  
  
Sammy stared. "Well. . .'You're welcome' is what humans say at these occasions, isn't it?"  
  
Harry grinned. "It is." He answered. "Now let's have a proper lunch before we go over to today's work, shall we, my friend?"  
  
** +++++ **  
  
"And so I flew downwards again, as fast as I could. . . of course I didn't care about the Muggles seeing me, I just wanted to escape those damned propellers before they shred me to pieces. . ." Draco Malfoy told his enthusiastic students, a true smile on his face.  
  
"What happened then?" someone asked.  
  
"Well, I dived for my life. . . and I was faster than ever before. Okay, that doesn't really say much, does it, since it was my first ever time on a broom. . . but I dived so fast I was back near the ground so soon I couldn't pull out in time. . ."  
  
A girl let out a small scream.  
  
"Well, it wasn't too dangerous, really. As you can see, I'm still alive today, so there was no lasting damage done. You're forgetting there was the lake under me, so I landed in the cold water. . ." Malfoy explained, trying to calm the kid.  
  
"No!" some boy shouted. "Look! Where's our lunch gone?"  
  
And he was right. The lunch really was gone.  
  
Malfoy, as well as everybody else, stared at the point the child was pointing - the students' tables. The lunch of the students, that had still been untouched because everybody wanted to hear the end of Malfoy's story first, wasn't where it had been minutes ago anymore.  
  
For a while everybody just stared.  
  
The staff had gone pale. The students looked confused. What did this mean? Why did the food vanish before anybody had eaten anything? What was going on? Was there something wrong?  
  
"Hey, what's the big deal?" Draco Malfoy's voice rang over the crowd's worried chatter. "The house elves probably just decided to cheer you up by giving your food a last minute change for the better." He lied. "Who are you to complain? You'll probably get a first class meal in the middle of term. You should be grateful!"  
  
Malfoy saw Hermione Granger stand up and slowly approach a grim looking auror who was guarding the door. The two talked in whispers for a moment, then the auror hurriedly left the hall and the professor returned to her seat.  
  
The students turned their attention to their potions professor again.  
  
"Now finally go on with the story, will you?!" Ronny Longbottom shouted.  
  
Malfoy kept from taking points off the cheeky boy's house, and instead continued: "Well, there's not much more to say, is there? I swam to the shore, clutching by broom in one hand all the time, which made me very slow. . . and I ended up in bed with the worst cold I ever had, and a nasty shock. . . and my father had to deal with the Ministry officials, because those Muggles in the helicopter. . ."  
  
It was then that the pain started full force.  
  
"Because they. . . had seen me. E. . . excuse me. . ." he gasped, then quickly took the 'Sonorus' charm off himself, and sprinted out of the hall, earning odd and confused looks from both students and staff.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Professor Hermione Granger's voice could be heard after him, but he chose to ignore it.  
  
Once he was out of sight, Draco Malfoy clutched the burning mark on his left forearm like mad. He had feared this would come. He had failed his master, and nobody failed his master and got away unpunished. And his master was very angry, he knew. It had never burned that much. He would be severely hurt today, Malfoy knew, dreading what was about to happen. But of course there would be no signs of it left afterwards. There was no way to trace a Cruciatus Curse.  
  
'Damn you, Voldemort.' He thought. 'Damn you and everything you stand for.'  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Albus Dumbledore was used to very stressful days, but this was getting a bit too much for him.  
  
He was currently sitting in his chair behind the desk of his office, his head in his hands. Dumbledore felt absolutely pissed off.  
  
The damned Ministry officials were acting as if they owned the place. Probably the worst of them was the man 'in charge' of it, the Deputy Minister. Sirius Black. He was constantly running around everywhere, having close looks at what people were doing, then yelling at them, sometimes insulting them, and ordering them around. Even the headmaster.  
  
Albus had been astonished to say the least when the man had approached him and commanded in the most impolite way: "You better make yourself useful for a change, headmaster, if you want to keep your position. Now get rid of those fucking reporters soon, old man, because they're trying to break through the front doors for one more interview. That must not happen as long as I'm in charge here. Got it?"  
  
Even Neville Longbottom had noticed the absolutely unacceptable behaviour of his boss, for he told Albus not to blame Mr Black too much, because the poor man was under an incredible amount of pressure with all that was happening in those days.  
  
Albus shook his head sadly. What had happened to the young, selfless, kind Sirius Black he had once known and respected so much? If that man wasn't lost forever already, somebody better open the bitter Deputy Minister's eyes soon, so he'd find back to himself. Albus knew that the longer Black kept going like that, the more pain the man himself would be in when it was over.  
  
If it would ever be.  
  
But Sirius Black wouldn't get his pity, it was the man's very own fault after all.  
  
After a while, Albus Dumbledore found himself thinking about Harry again. Well, who didn't in those days. But Albus knew better than most in many ways. Harry was not what he was commonly believed to be.  
  
It had not been long ago when a Ministry auror from the Great Hall had reached him, telling him that all the students' lunch had vanished from the tables. Both the staff and the aurors agreed that it had probably been Harry. Most were shocked by the thought of Harry Potter the infamous murderer having access to the Great Hall, where all students were staying - the currently safest place in the whole castle. Albus suspected that his friend had done it the same way he had summoned his belongings from his rooms. He had looked up the charm. Not easy to cast, but also not easy to break. Typical for Harry Potter, he thought with a smile.  
  
At least, Albus thought with satisfaction, the poor guy, wherever he now was, had everything he needed: Almost his whole furniture, his belongings, which included several very useful and valuable magical objects, and enough food for a month.  
  
The house elves had already been told to get the students new food, and much better than the last, so Professor Malfoy's explanation about why the food had so mysteriously vanished would turn out true. There would be a fantastic meal up soon, and Albus had arranged for a house elf to come up and say something like "Because you poor children have to stay in here for so long, we thought it would be a good idea to at least get you some proper food to cheer you up.". Well, a house elf would certainly never formulate a sentence like that, but the point was that the students were satisfied in the end, and would stop worrying.  
  
Albus might not like Professor Draco Malfoy's character too much, but the guy was certainly smart, and in situations like this it was a good thing he was there.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
The smart guy was absolutely terrified as he knelt down at the feet of his master, kissing the hem of the monster's robes.  
  
Lord Voldemort smiled evilly at the gesture.  
  
"There you are, young Mr Malfoy. You still did not get those Gryffindor colours out?" he asked, sounding dangerously calm, even a bit amused. That frightened Malfoy even more.  
  
"I. . . I tried, my Lord. . . I did not find the right spell yet, but I. . . I can assure you I will soon. . ."  
  
"Oh, of course, Malfoy. You tried. You always try, do you not?" the monster hissed, its anger obvious now. "YOU JUST ALWAYS HAPPEN TO FAIL!" the thing thundered. "CRUCIO!"  
  
And immediately he was rolling on the floor, screaming. It was burning. Everything was burning, every bone of him, every nerve, every bloody cell. Malfoy wanted it to stop. He'd do anything to make it stop. STOP! But it didn't. It felt like it was hours, when in fact it was only seconds he'd been under this blasted curse. And he screamed. And he twitched. And he wanted it to stop. But it never did. Never. He heard his screams, his own screams, so loud that his ears were ringing. He didn't even feel the furious tears running down his cheeks. . .  
  
Then suddenly it stopped.  
  
Malfoy rose to his knees, which was hard work in his state. There was still this dull pain everywhere. . . a joke compared to the actual curse, but painful still. The after-effects.  
  
Malfoy hated the man he had sworn lifelong loyalty to for doing this to him. This curse. Always this curse. . . again and again. This curse which he hated so damned much. Almost every time they met. . . when his master decided he had failed again. . . and the tasks were becoming so damned close to impossible in those days that most were bound to fail very often. And everybody knew it was a very bad thing to fail Lord Voldemort.  
  
Draco Malfoy was lucky enough also to be considered one of the most capable men in the Death Eaters' ranks - a position his father had got him -, so he was so fortunate as to get the most important and most difficult tasks. Many Deatheaters envied this luck.  
  
Malfoy really hated his father for getting him into this mess.  
  
"Lost your self control, Malfoy? Just pathetic." His master spat in fury, ripping him out of his thought.  
  
It was true, Malfoy thought. He had lost the mental battle this time, instantly.  
  
He had been seventeen when he had first felt the curse, and he had thought there could not possibly be any pain worse than Cruciatus. Yet young Master Malfoy had always tried not to let anyone see just how much it hurt him. He had managed to keep from screaming after a few years in the Dark Lord's service. His master had been pleased. Not many, the monster had said, could keep silent when they were under the Cruciatus.  
  
Malfoy knew the Dark Lord did not often praise his servants, and it had made him incredibly proud.  
  
But he had been wrong when he had thought that there was no worse pain.  
  
No that Lord Voldemort had his new. . . weapon, he had gained the ability to vary the power behind any curse. It had become much worse. Now even he, Draco Malfoy, was unable not to scream.  
  
How he hated this weapon. This disgusting golden power source his master had with him wherever he went.  
  
It was a necklace, though there was nothing beautiful about it, as far as Draco Malfoy was concerned. It was pure gold, and you felt both the power and the evilness coming from it. It was just perfect for Voldemort's plans, though somehow Malfoy had the impression the thing had changed his master. . . for the worse, if that was still possible.  
  
Though the magical community had no idea there was anything going on, the Death Eaters were busy wondering where their Lord's 'wonderful weapon' had come from. Some said Voldemort had made it himself, others said Salazar Slytherin had left it somewhere for his heir to find. . . there were even wild rumours flying that he had stolen it from no other than the devil himself. Malfoy had barely managed to keep from laughing the first time he had heard that - as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as a divine all-powerful devil, with big red horns, a tail, a trident and no conscience. . . though Lord Voldemort made up for that 'loss' remarkably well.  
  
As far as Malfoy knew, even his master's real enemy, Dumbledore, did not know about the existence of the necklace, though he suspected the crazy old man suspected that there was something wrong with Lord Voldemort, but just couldn't point his finger on what it might be that suddenly made the monster more powerful than ever before.  
  
And, Malfoy thought, even if Dumbledore knew, there was nothing that could be done with the knowledge. So there would be no point in trying to help Dumbledore, even though he really did hate his current master. Dumbledore could not be helped anyway - Malfoy only could get himself into more trouble trying to. And he didn't want that. There was no bringing down Lord Voldemort anymore - the only options were to serve him or to find a cruel death fighting him.  
  
A new pain jerked him out ot his thoughts. He really was a fool sometimes. How dare he drift away into his thoughts while he was facing his master? Wasn't he in enough trouble already?  
  
Voldemort had torn a small tuft of hair from him and now held it in front of his face for him to see. It was scarlet. Gryffindor scarlet.  
  
Then the Dark Lord waved a hand over the Death Eater, frightening the man to death. But no pain came.  
  
Malfoy felt the tearing again and got to see another tuft of hair a moment later. It was the usual white blonde.  
  
His master had just fixed his hair.  
  
"T. . . thank you, my. . . Lord. . ."  
  
"Stop stuttering!" the monster snapped, silencing Malfoy immediately.  
  
"And now let's finally talk about the reason I called you here, Malfoy."  
  
The evil voice was calm again. Malfoy almost panicked. His master was dangerous when he spoke calmly. But then, the monster was always dangerous.  
  
"Can you explain this to me, Malfoy?"  
  
Still far too calm for the servant's liking.  
  
Soon Draco Malfoy was confronted with the front page of the Daily Prophet.  
  
'HOGWARTS TEACHER TURNS OUT TO BE HARRY POTTER!!!' the title screamed.  
  
Malfoy had feared something like that.  
  
He had failed again.  
  
And he did not have to wait long before his master cast the spell again.  
  
"CRUCIO!"  
  
The pain was even worse than before, and it seemed to last an eternity.  
  
It was only after cruelly long minutes of being tortured and begging a monster for mercy that Draco Malfoy was allowed to disapparate again.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
They had had a fabulous lunch, and both Harry and Sammy were full. Yet there was much, very much food remaining. . . Harry knew they'd be able to live on it for weeks, assuming he found the right spell to keep it well for that long. . . but he was sure he would manage that easily.  
  
Now Harry was making a few last preparations before they got to what they had planned for the day. Sammy watched with confusion as the curses flew from him to his enchanted mirror, and back to him.  
  
"I don't think there is much point in trying to curse that object, Harry. . . the curses keep flying back to you. Don't you fear one of them might injure you? Why don't you give it up?" she hissed.  
  
Harry grinned. Sammy was fun to have around. "I do not intend to curse the mirror, but myself. The mirror is specially charmed to throw all curses back to the direction they came from."  
  
"But you have cursed yourself without it before. . ."  
  
"Yes I have, but those were only weak curses. The stronger ones I'm casting now cannot be cast on oneself without this extra help so easily. They're very strong protection charms." Harry explained.  
  
"Oh. . . it will be very dangerous, then?"  
  
"Well, a bit. . . but I've gone through much worse and come out unharmed. I don't think the risk is too much. . . we should manage. Do you want to stay here?" he offered.  
  
"No. . . no, I want to be there. I want to see a bit of the world, you know. . . and the man we are getting here, too. After all I will probably be living with him for quite a while. Who knows, perhaps I can even be of some help."  
  
Harry grinned. "Okay. . . I'm done here. Ready to go, Sammy?"  
  
Sammy, confused with her friend's sudden joy, nodded.  
  
"Fine." Harry stepped. He waited until the snake had made herself comfortable around his neck; then he stepped into the small Apparation circle he had made up a few minutes ago.  
  
He had charmed the small space so that only he could come in and out. . . and truth to be told, it had cost him several minutes to find a good spell, and the Anti Apparation charm on the whole castle had not helped, either. It had cost him lots of time casting powerful spells on the thing. Perhaps he would add Snape to the list of people able to come in and out, he thought. It wouldn't be a problem on his way back, though. Anybody touching him automatically came along. . . though he had to concentrate a bit more.  
  
"Off we go, then." Harry hissed to his animal friend and apparated.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Seamus Finnigan slowly walked to the Azkaban cell of his old potions professor again, dreading what was about to come, and remembering what had happen when he last had gone there with the intend of killing the man. It had ended with the best wizarding school anywhere being in total chaos. . . and it still was.  
  
At least, Seamus thought, there was only one man left to kill now. Yes, it had been his job to kill two, but Lucius Malfoy had attempted escape in all the excitement, when all aurors were at Hogwarts. He had even managed to leave the island, which, the auror knew, was a fairly difficult thing to do. But everybody knew he could not have come very far. There was water, and it was deep, and the space was far, and there were sharks. He must have been eaten at some point, everybody was sure, and they didn't even expect any parts of the man to show up at the shore again.  
  
'So now there's only one left.' Seamus thought, be he doubted that would make him feel much better.  
  
Slowly he approached the cell.  
  
He was relieved when he saw that the man was lying on the floor, not moving. . . he was sleeping, unconscious or already dead. Neither of those options would have really surprised anyone; they were, after all, in Azkaban.  
  
Anyway, Seamus thought, it'll make it easier to get this over with, for both him and me.  
  
Seamus raised his hand. He was clutching his wand tightly, but the aim was not very good. His whole body was shaking like mad.  
  
Now, he had to do it, and nothing would stop him. He had to do it. For the Ministry of Magic. Yes. It was the right thing to do. The best for everybody. There was no reason to feel bad about it. No reason at all. No problem - just do it. . .  
  
"A. . . Avada. . ."  
  
"STUPEFY!" a shout from his left came, and a powerful curse hit him less than a second later, the source being invisible.  
  
** +++ **  
  
Severus Snape woke from one of his usual nightmares by a shout. Normally that wouldn't have bothered him. People were constantly screaming and shouting in this place. But the shout had been a curse. He knew the curse. Stupefy. Simple but effective. Used to stop people from bothering you.  
  
He slowly opened his eyes and crawled nearer to the door, which was not far away. The curse had come from some point very close to him. He was a bit confused. Why would someone want to use 'Stupefy' in Azkaban? Aurors in a bad mood usually used the Cruciatus for some fun, not 'Stupefy'. . .  
  
He was shocked when, after his eyes had finally adjusted to the light, he saw Seamus Finnigan, an auror he feared and hated, lying on the dirty ground in front of his cell door, frozen. Someone had attacked the auror. But who would. . .  
  
He actually screamed and jumped back when a figure appeared out of nowhere right in front of him. Scared to hell by the mysterious person, he carefully let his gaze wander up to the face. It was a man, with a green snake wound up around his neck. Snape's first thought was: 'Salazar Slytherin is here to take me to hell.' Then he noticed the messy black hair of the man. And he wore glasses. He knew him. . .  
  
The man slowly bent down until their faces were in the same height.  
  
"Come nearer, Snape." The man said. "I need to talk to you."  
  
Severus Snape felt his pulse getting faster and faster.  
  
It was Potter. Harry Potter. Potter knew he had told the aurors. . . Potter was here for revenge. . . Potter would hurt him. . . Potter would kill him. . . he had betrayed this man. . . he had betrayed an innocent to postpone his own death. . . he would die for this now. . . he would have to face the man he had betrayed. . .  
  
Snape did not know at what point he had started sobbing loudly.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
"My God, he's so scared of you. . . and he feels guilty. . . so guilty. . . what did you do to him?" Sammy hissed.  
  
Harry smiled grimly. "I did nothing to him, ever. But it's only natural for people to be despaired in Azkaban. As for the guilt. . . I've no clue why exactly. In Azkaban you're forced to relive your worst memories, and he has, after all, been a Death Eater once. God knows what he must be going through all the time." He replied.  
  
Then he spoke human again. "Snape. . . Snape, there's no need to be frightened of me. It's me, Harry Potter. You must not fear me, we're on the same side. I won't do anything to you, that's a promise, okay? Just come here, please."  
  
Even without Sammy's magical eyes, Harry could see that the fear did not cease the least. Yet Snape slowly crawled nearer.  
  
"P. . . Potter?" he stuttered weakly.  
  
He was thin. Terribly thin. And the dark, cold eyes were empty of anything but pain. He was shivering, and he was so pale. . . though Harry knew the natural coldness of the place was not the only thing causing it. There were dementors around, and many.  
  
"Yes, it's me. Listen to me, Snape. I'm offering to get you out of here. . . do you want me to get you out? I have a good place for you to stay. . . with no risks. Do you want to come with me?" Harry said gently.  
  
For a moment Snape just stared, he stopped sobbing and started laughing so hard and loud Harry feared someone might get concerned and look what was going on. But then, Harry knew from experience, such things were only normal here. You really had to make more noise for somebody to come and check on you. . . or to come and punish you.  
  
"You. . . you want to. . . get me. . . out of here?. . . Why would you. . . do that? It's not. . . like we are. . . best friends. . . You can't be the real. . . Potter if you want to. . . get me out. . . Odd, really. I always knew I'd. . . end up imagining things. . . but I never thought I'd. . . get so crazy as to. . . imagine you. . . standing here." He said between lunatic laugher.  
  
Harry sighed, feeling sorry for the man who he knew despised him. This would get difficult. And he didn't want anyone to come by and see him there. Harry had to hurry.  
  
"You are not imagining things. I am here to get you out. I know the perfect place to live. You just have to agree. And think about it - what do you have to lose? Let me free you, okay? Life will be lots better afterwards. Please let me do it now - we must hurry!" he urged.  
  
Snape started laughing again. "Well. . ." he said in his hoarse voice, "It would be. . . curious. . . to see an imagination. . . try to free me. . . from here. . ." he managed between a fit of laugher.  
  
Harry was relieved. Finally.  
  
"Thank you." He said. "Go back to the wall, will you?"  
  
Snape did. He just stared as the imagination cast a powerful looking charm, which ripped the door right out of the frame. He kept staring until Harry suggested in a gentle voice: "Come on out, Snape. You're free."  
  
Slowly, very slowly, the potions master stood up, until he was standing on his feet. The man had not used his legs in a very long time; yet he managed to walk. One step. . . two steps. . . three steps. . . through the door. . . five steps. . . the his legs failed him and he stumbled, only to be caught by Potter.  
  
Snape was being lifted, and the strong man was carrying his light body away from his cell. . . away from the prison. . . being levitated - invisible - over the sea, a bird above him all the time. . . being carried by the man again. . . carried away from hell. . . back to the land of living. . . back to freedom. . .  
  
Only when he heard the soothing words of his saviour, Snape realised he had started crying again.  
  
"We have passed the Apparation barrier. . . I will apparate us now. Okay?" the gentle voice asked after a while.  
  
"Yes. . . yes please. . ." He quietly answered. Then he closed his eyes, and felt the pulling feeling again. They were apparating.  
  
When Snape opened his eyes again, they were in a place that he was sure he had never been at before, but he liked it immediately. There were huge stone pillars. . . a statue of Salazar Slytherin. . . furniture. . . a comfortable looking bed. . . and food. . . so much food. . .  
  
He had not realised just how hungry he'd been.  
  
"God. . . this is. . . heaven. . ." he whispered, happy again for the first time in years.  
  
Behind his back, Harry grinned.  
  
** +++++ End Chapter 21 **  
  
Hi!  
  
Yes, I just updated; I know it's been a while. I've been very busy, and for a while I didn't know what to write. . . but don't worry, I'm over that now. Got a new good idea what could happen to Remus. . . but you'll have to read that. In Chapter 24, in fact.  
  
So, what do you think of this chapter? Do you like the development of Draco's thoughts on Voldie? And the little story he told the students?  
  
Yes, I am trying to get you to review. I just love reviews. . . but everybody does, I suppose. Just give a short statement what you think, okay?  
  
Thanks for reading!!!  
  
Bye! Ottilchen 


	23. Chapter 22: Storytelling

Chapter 22: Storytelling  
  
He opened his eyes when he woke. He usually never did that, but there was nothing usual about this morning anyway. He was not hungry, and he was not cold. Actually he was strangely comfortable. He took in the place, and remembered the happenings of the previous day. No wonder he felt so good. . . this was not Azkaban. This was whatever place Potter had brought him to. Yes, Potter, the spoiled brat, had taken him away from Azkaban.  
  
But he still had no clue where the hell he was now. It was obvious that this place was no ordinary place. . . it was several times as huge as the Great Hall, and that did say something, as far as Snape was concerned. The place looked like a huge, awfully huge cave, but it was not cold, or wet, or the slightest bit uncomfortable at all. There were these huge stone pillars, and the statue of Salazar Slytherin. The place was very Slytherin anyway. He wondered why Potter of all people would appreciate it. . .  
  
Snape decided it was about time he had a long talk with Potter. Where he was, how life there would be, if he'd have to be with the foolish child all the time, what he would be doing, and why the hell. . . were some of his questions. He hadn't said a word to Potter after his arrival at this strange place; he had just eaten what had tasted like a feast meal, and he had eaten more than he had in years. Then he'd had a closer look at this comfortable bed and decided he could use a nap.  
  
Another reason he hadn't talked to the man yet was the fact that he had felt weak and vulnerable, and he wouldn't let Potter know that. Also he hated looking into the boy's eyes. . . he had betrayed him. He had told the evil aurors where Potter was, just to save his own arse, which, he thought, was not really worth saving at all. He had acted pathetic, like a coward, like that Wormtail. . . and he felt like dirt now. And he hadn't even saved anything at all, he was sure. Sooner or later somebody would have come for him to rid the world of him anyway. That was probably what Finnigan this great prat had come for, right before Potter had suddenly appeared. Snape wondered if Potter was just doing this for his punishment. Perhaps that was the reason Potter was not at Hogwarts now, because the aurors had come and he had escaped. But then. . . it wouldn't be possible to escape a group of several ministry aurors, even if you were Harry Potter, powerful prat. . . would it? And if he really had escaped, than why had he got Snape? To take revenge and kill him? Would he make it very painful? But then. . . why had he got the chance to sleep in the comfortable bed first? To give him a last moment of peace before he would die? So many questions. . . Snape decided he really needed to talk to Potter soon. . . or better hide from him. . . which was wiser. . .  
  
"Did you sleep well in my bed?" came a voice from behind him.  
  
Snape flinched visibly. The hiding option was out of question now.  
  
Slowly, very slowly, he sat up and turned around, looking into the eyes of a serious, but not unhappy looking Harry Potter. The man was sitting on a bright green sofa. the colour didn't suit the design the least. . . and Snape thought the whole thing looked just childish.  
  
"Y. . . your bed?" he asked quietly, trying to get used to speaking again.  
  
Potter nodded.  
  
"I didn't know. . ."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about it." Potter replied. "I would have said something if I had minded that much. Anyway, my sofa is just as comfortable. . ."  
  
"Oh, of course. . . it certainly. . . looks that way." Snape's sneer interrupted.  
  
Harry smiled warmly. The man was starting to regain his character. . . or at least the sarcasm, which, as he knew from experience, was a quite big part of it. It had disturbed Harry greatly that Snape had been so crushed all last evening, and he had feared the man might have been damaged beyond repair, which would have been one of the worst thing that could happen. . . he certainly didn't want a nutcase to have to look after on top of everything. He wanted an ally, and perhaps some help with some things. . . Harry was glad he had got what he needed and freed a very good friend of Albus' at the same time.  
  
"Now, you shouldn't judge a sofa by its colour, Snape. And believe me, it looks better now than it did when dear old Lockhart left it for me. And I've slept on it before. . . Anyway, are you hungry? I could try and warm up something from yesterday. . ." Harry suggested in a gentle voice.  
  
For a moment Snape just stared at Potter. As far as he knew, the man had gone through fourteen years of Azkaban, then had broken out and lived in hiding from the Ministry. . . not to mention he'd had a horrible childhood, and witnessing the most terrible of things a human could do. . . yet now Harry Potter was sitting here, babbling away carelessly, as if all of that had never happened. As if they were normal people in a normal situation, talking about normal things. But they weren't, and Snape didn't feel like pretending to be happy at the time.  
  
"Don't you think, Potter, that we should have a little talk first? Because if you don't give me some proper answers soon, I'll hex you into oblivion. Where the hell am I?" Snape snapped.  
  
The man didn't like not being master of the situation.  
  
Harry's expression became more serious immediately. He sighed. "Yes, you want answers. . . I can understand that perfectly well. If you wish to talk now, we will." He smiled grimly. "So, as an answer to your first of what I expect to be many questions, the place you are in is the Chamber of Secrets. I'm sure you know all about. . ."  
  
"The Chamber of Secrets?!" Snape exclaimed. "What the hell are we doing. . . Potter, you idiotic child. . . the place was founded by Salazar Slytherin himself! It's probably full of dark magic. . ."  
  
"It is not." Harry assured. "I've checked it."  
  
Snape looked unimpressed. "And you honestly think you would see any of the deep dark magic one of the most evil wizards ever has hidden here, you little arrogant."  
  
"Stop insulting me." Harry interrupted. He was stopping to feel sorry for Snape, now that he seemed back to his old self, sarcastic and insulting. "And lets get back to the subject."  
  
A moment later Snape nodded. "Fine. Then I have a question now, Potter: What are you doing here, and why did you bring me here?"  
  
Harry sighed again. This talk would not be easy.  
  
"Well, where should I begin. . . in the middle of the summer, I suddenly woke up from the usual nightmare and found Albus Dumbledore standing in front of my Azkaban cell. . ." he started.  
  
"I know that part." Snape interrupted. "Albus told me. He. . . visited me a while ago."  
  
"Ah, sure. . . He mentioned that." Harry said. "How much do you know?"  
  
"I know that you broke out to be near in case Voldemort attacked. . . and that you were in contact with Albus all the time. Now I'd like to know. . . how did you do it?" Snape said. He found it wiser not to mention that he knew Potter had stayed in Hogwarts as a teacher. . . he didn't want the man to figure out what he had told the Ministry. God knew how that would end. . .  
  
Harry smiled. "I taught DADA up at the school, under disguise, of course. . . it was a lot of fun, actually. . . anyway, then I can skip the largest part." he said, somewhat relieved. "All I can say to my being here then is that yesterday morning at breakfast, all of a sudden a large group of aurors stormed into the Great Hall, up to the teachers' table, and told me straight into the face that they had found out who I was, and that I was under arrest." Harry snorted. "I don't know why they were so foolish as to leave the door open. Or as not to bring any capable men. I escaped easily."  
  
"And you went here." Snape said.  
  
"Yes. I hid in the Forbidden Forest until it was dark. I used the time to think about what to do, and where to go. I came up with this place. It is perfect for my plans, really. It is directly under Hogwarts, and the castle is so full of security I don't think they really expect me to stay anywhere near here any time longer than necessary. Also I am as near as it gets in case Voldemort decides to attack. The last advantage is the fact that there is no way anyone but Voldemort or me can enter the Chamber with no complications. Voldemort is not interested the least, he has his own places where he has everything he needs for his terrible plans. It would take the Ministry years just to work out which spells they need to break through the natural protection of the Chamber of Secrets, let alone cast them. So we are absolutely safe here."  
  
Snape nodded. He was starting to understand why Albus always said Harry Potter was not a foolish child with nothing but stupid pranks and rule- breaking in his head. The boy really seemed master of the messes fate always threw him into.  
  
"I see why you chose the Chamber of Secrets, Potter." He told the boy. "But what am I doing here?"  
  
Harry smiled weakly. "Well, I decided it would get boring with only Sammy for company. . . she falls asleep all the time, you know. Also there are some things I'm planning to do that I could use some help with. Then Albus told me you were doing really badly in Azkaban. . . well, who does not. . . anyway, I thought you were the perfect person to join me here. Do you mind?" he asked jokingly. "I can bring you back. . ."  
  
"If you dare try that I'll hex your overgrown head off. . ." Snape answered.  
  
"Without a wand?" Harry replied with amusement. Snape glared, but then realised that, as an Azkaban fugitive, Potter shouldn't have his wand, either. He was a bit startled.  
  
"You did all of this without your wand, Potter? Escaping Azkaban? Teaching, and escaping the Ministry again?" he asked.  
  
Harry smiled. "Yes. I do have certain skills in that field. . . though I think a wand would be good if I really will end up fighting Voldemort. I'm thinking about ways to get it back, you know. . . one of the things I'll need your help with."  
  
Snape snorted. "In case you didn't know, Potter, the Ministry of Magic keeps prisoners' wands in a high security vault in Gringotts. You'd be mad to try and break in there. . ."  
  
"Voldemort has managed. Don't you remember? It was my first year at Hogwarts, and he tried to get the Philosopher's stone. . . luckily it was gone already. . . anyway, Voldemort made his way in and out safely, even though he was in Quirrel's body. It can't be that hard. . ."  
  
"Don't be silly!" Snape snapped. "Voldemort is the damned greatest Dark Wizard of modern time, the heir of Slytherin. . . and you are merely a rich and famous boy with too big a head. . ."  
  
"You don't know me well if you still think so, Snape." Harry spat back, his glare matching the elder man's. "I am very much aware of what I am doing. And anyway, it was just a little plan in my head, I've not decided anything yet. And even if I'll do it, I won't force you to help me if you don't want to. So calm the hell down now and stop insulting me!"  
  
Slowly, Snape nodded. He knew this was not getting them anywhere, and he would come back to the subject now, no matter how childish Potter's plans were. "Okay. . ." he said. "Then tell me. . . how will we manage the simple things. . . like getting food? I once listened to Black talking about eating rats while he was a fugitive. . . and it didn't sound very appealing."  
  
Harry grinned. "Yeah, I do believe they don't taste too well. I thought if we got my money from Gringotts while we're at it, we'd be able to just go shopping in the Muggle world. . ."  
  
"Oh. . . so the option is either to break into the safest place of the world and try to get out of it unharmed, or to live on rats?"  
  
"Well. . . we could steal food from the Hogwarts kitchen. . . but I'd hate that. Also if we keep stealing things they're bound to notice, and the Ministry will put up more security, and it would be hell for anyone up there, thinking a murderer is running around in the castle. . . who knows, perhaps they'll get to closing the school again, like in second year. . ."  
  
"I get the point, Potter!" he was interrupted. "So no stealing from Hogwarts. Another question: Will you keep sleeping on the sofa, or are you planning to get me my own bed anytime soon?"  
  
"That shouldn't be too much of a problem." Harry replied. "We'll get something from a Muggle shop. . . or I'll just transfigure something." He grinned. "No more grey stone to sleep on, I promise."  
  
Snape couldn't quite hide the pained look in his eyes as he remembered what he had just been rescued from. Yes, it really had been hell. But he was free now, and he would never return. He'd rather die.  
  
"It's over, Snape." Harry assured, regretting what he had just said, and what memories he had just woken. He remembered the state Snape had been in the day before. . . and he certainly didn't want anything like that to happen again. "It's over, and nothing like it will ever happen to you again."  
  
Snape felt his eyes get wet, and he swallowed hard. Not again. . . it had been embarrassing enough yesterday. . . he would not get so weak again. . . and in front of Potter of all people. . . no, never again.  
  
It took him a while, but he finally managed to bite this odd feeling in his throat down.  
  
"Fine." The Potions Master finally said after a long time of silence. "You are staying here, waiting for the Dark Lord to attack, and since I have no real option but to accompany you. . . what will we do all the time?" he asked.  
  
"Hmm. . ." Harry wondered aloud. "I think I'll be learning a lot. . . and preparing for whatever may come. As far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever you want. . . as long as you're not in my way, but I doubt you'll be."  
  
"Good!" Snape said, smiling for the first time in a long while. "Then, boy, I can assure you I will stay deliberately in your way until you give me the means to built up a proper potion lab somewhere down here. . . God knows I haven't brown a decent potion in ages."  
  
Harry smiled back, though he was a bit startled at the man's cheerfulness. He had very sudden changes of mood anyway, Harry noticed. He hoped it wouldn't escalate. . . but otherwise, Snape appeared to be just fine. . . for a man who had spent several terrible years in Azkaban, anyway. Harry decided it would be safe to ask something that was on his mind.  
  
"Snape. . . I want to ask you a question. . . when I arrived at your cell yesterday, there was Seamus Finnigan standing there, trying to. . . kill you with Avada Kedavra." He said.  
  
When Potter said nothing else, Snape merely nodded. "I am aware of that." He just stated.  
  
Harry looked up. "You are? But why the hell. . . what does Seamus think he's doing, that git. trying to kill a prisoner, just because he's a fucking auror. . . do you have any idea why the hell this stupid ass did that?"  
  
Snape pressed his lips together, remembering painful things, and wondering what lie he should tell Potter. "I do know." He finally said. "Finnigan came a while before and said that. . . that he would kill me soon. . . because there are too few cells in Azkaban. It was awful, thinking he could be back anytime. . ."  
  
There was silence, both men deep in thought.  
  
"Anyway, Potter. . ." Snape started again after a while, "You wouldn't happen to have something like a bathroom down here?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Actually, I don't. . . I hexed all my things down here, you know. . . and I feared that if I ripped the shower out of the wall, the aurors searching through my rooms might get injured. . . well, I'm sure we'll come up with something. Just. . . find a place in one of these countless pipes, I'd say."  
  
So the two men spent most of the morning dividing the huge Chamber of Secret into some private rooms for Harry, some private rooms for Snape, and some rooms for them both, like a living room, a small library and a practice room.  
  
Harry was positively surprised Snape was actually a person he could get along with very well, since he actually had some fun that morning. He hoped it would stay that way.  
  
It was getting dark outside when they were done with what they could do with no money, and they sat down to think up the best way to contact people without putting them or themselves in any danger.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Albus Dumbledore made his way through the hundreds of letters that were filling his office. His students' parents were worrying. They thought that a murderer was walking around in the school, and that everybody was in danger. Albus did not blame them, for they just couldn't know better. They couldn't know that Harry was, in fact, not a murderer, and would never hurt anybody.  
  
He had decided to write one letter to all parents, in which he would explain that the 'murderer' was away and had absolutely no reason to return, and that he'd never dare come anywhere near the school because of all these aurors. He only hoped he would manage to reassure them enough not to try and do anything about the situation on their own. . . like taking their kids home. It was important for a young witch or wizard to be educated properly, and in these days even more so.  
  
Dumbledore actually yelled out in surprise when a peace of paper appeared right in front of his eyes, out of nowhere, it seemed. Thinking it was just a bewitched letter from one of the more terrified parents he tossed it aside, but it came back. Sighing in frustration, the headmaster put the letter he had been reading away and grabbed the annoying peace of paper to read through it first.  
  
There was just one line written there in black ink.  
  
'You must be having a lot of stress.'  
  
The writing unmistakably belonged to Harry.  
  
Excited and relieved, Albus grabbed his quill from his desk and hurriedly wrote back.  
  
'Indeed. Are you okay? Where are you?'  
  
The answer came quickly.  
  
'I am fine, and so are my two companions. As to where we are, I will not tell you, for your own safety and ours. If the Ministry finds out. . . you understand.'  
  
Albus:  
  
'Yes, I understand. Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I'm glad you're okay. What companions are you talking about?'  
  
'There's Sammy with me, of course, and, in case you haven't heard yet. . . Severus Snape mysteriously broke out from Azkaban.'  
  
Albus Dumbledore hadn't been so happy in quite a while.  
  
'He's with you now?'  
  
It was Snape's writing that answered:  
  
'Yes, it looks like I'm stuck with my favourite student now. Hallo, Albus.'  
  
Albus grinned. Severus sounded much like his old self, and he certainly hadn't done so when he had visited.  
  
'Hallo, Severus.' He answered. 'I can't tell you how glad I am that you're finally out of that hell. What are the two of you planning to do?'  
  
Harry's writing again. 'I won't tell you much about it, for the same reason as I won't tell you where we are. But we'll be fine. I want you to know that we're near, so I can be with you soon if Voldemort attacks. Also, I've got much time to prepare for coming confrontations now, and I'll be working a lot, that's a promise.'  
  
They continued to talk for a while about unimportant things, and when they finally stopped the pleasant chat, they decided to keep their messenger paper so they could always talk. . . if there was something important to tell.  
  
So when Albus Dumbledore wrote a reply to the parents' letters, he was in a much better mood.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
It was getting late. Harry Potter was sitting on the bright green sofa that now stood in the middle of Harry's newly arranged living-room, which was in the middle of the Chamber of Secrets. Snape was sitting in an armchair across the table, facing Harry. There was not much they could actually do, so they had decided to call it a night, and now they were eating some of the rest of the meal Harry had 'stolen' from the Great Hall. The younger wizard had warmed the food up and there was a strong durability spell on it, yet they both agreed that it didn't taste good at all.  
  
"I thought you were so extraordinarily powerful, Potter." Snape commanded. "This durability charm of yours doesn't seem to work too well, though. Are you sure you are the right man to fight the Dark Lord for us?"  
  
Harry grinned. "I hope I am, for I believe there isn't anyone else that can defeat him. Not that I'm sure I'll ever be able to, with all the strange powers he is rumoured to have archived lately. . . anyway, this is your first evening with me and you're already complaining about the. . . delicious food? I thought you'd be used to worse."  
  
Harry regretted having said that when he noticed Snape stiffen a bit.  
  
"Yes." Snape said, more quietly and more seriously. "I am definitely used to worse. And to tell the truth, I'm quite glad that I'm here now. There is food and it's warm here. . . no aurors around. . . and the best thing, I probably won't be having any more nightmares now that I'm no longer surrounded by dementors. And life will be peaceful and quiet again, with no insane convicts around me, screaming all the time. . . except for you, of course." Snape added with a small smile. "Yes, Potter, I am very. . . satisfied with the development of things."  
  
Harry smiled at Snape, knowing this was probably the closest thing to a 'Thank you' that he'd ever get for getting the man out of Azkaban.  
  
For a moment they just looked at each other, their eyes full of understanding.  
  
"How did it happen?" Harry asked.  
  
The understanding vanished. "How did what happen?" Snape replied. His voice was harder than it had been all day, and Harry wondered if it would have been wiser not to talk about that subject. But he felt that he needed to know.  
  
"How did the aurors arrest you?" he repeated his question.  
  
Now Snape's gaze got harder as well. How dare this noisy boy ask him a question of that sort?  
  
"I don't think that is any of your concern, Potter." He snapped, glaring fully at the younger wizard, who did not seem impressed by this at all. "You wouldn't like to talk about the reason you were in Azkaban either, would you?"  
  
Harry sighed. Snape did not want to tell him. Well, what had he expected, really? He had never been on very good terms with Snape, and why would he tell his once least favourite student such a personal story?  
  
Harry had to gain Snape's trust if he wanted the time they'd spend together to be more or less pleasant, he knew. And he'd start now. . . even though it wouldn't be easy. 'Get it over with.' He thought.  
  
They locked eyes again, both uncomfortable. After a moment, Harry looked away. Staring at the floor, he sighed quietly. He would tell Snape. . . to gain his trust, and to give him the chance to get to know him better.  
  
"Very well. . . it was the evening before Hermione's birthday, and Ron and me were. . . we were at the Burrow, decorating the place. We had planned a surprise party there, you know, since Hermione was always too busy to throw much of a party on her birthdays. . . typically Hermione. . . anyway, we had invited lots of people, and it would have been great. . . the place looked splendid when we were done with it. . . so when the preparations were all done, we decided to meet there the next afternoon at four o'clock, an hour before the guests would come. Once all were there Mrs Weasley would ask Hermione to come over and help her with one thing or another. . . you know how such a surprise party works. Anyway, I was about to go back to the room of the Leaky Cauldron I lived in at the time when. . . when it happened."  
  
Snape was astonished, but he listened carefully. Potter was telling him about what probably had been the worst evening in his life. Potter was telling him. Snape had no clue why the younger wizard was doing that, but he knew better than to interrupt him and ask. It had to be damned painful for Potter to talk about it, he knew, and he certainly did not want to hold the progress up.  
  
Potter continued. "I was walking down the front yard, and I didn't see. . . them. It all came very quick. I was hit by a Cruciatus Curse. I dunno why they didn't kill me at once. . . wanted a bit of fun, I suppose. I fell down screaming, as usual. The curse lasted long. But then. . . I thought about Ron. . . and Mr and Mrs Weasley. . . and I. . . I beat the curse. It vanished."  
  
"You beat a Cruciatus Curse?" Snape asked, amazed. He regretted having interrupted Potter so stupidly immediately, but Potter didn't seem to be bothered much.  
  
"I did, for the first time ever." He said, his voice getting more and more quiet. "I. . . I managed to stand up. . . and saw the ass that had cast the curse. . . Lucius Malfoy. I stunned him. Then. . . for a while I just stood there, staring at that Deatheater. . . then I. . . I heard a scream. . . coming from the house. . . it was Mrs Weasley."  
  
Harry swallowed. He was glad Snape did not interrupt him. . . it was hard enough as it was, and he wanted it to get it over with. "And then I made the worst mistake of my life." He continued. "I started to panic. I ran to the house, screaming all the time. . . yelling at the Deatheaters to leave my best friends alone. I practically. . . warned them that I was coming. I kicked the front door open and ran in, yelled 'Where are you'. . . but they were already dead. Ron was the first. . . the first one I found. . . he was lying on the stairs. . . an Avada Kedavra must have hit him, for I saw no injuries, but. . . but he was. . . Ron was dead. I. . ."  
  
Harry paused. It hurt. It hurt to think about it, and it hurt even more to tell. But no matter if it would help Snape trust him, he wouldn't loose self-control now. 'Stay calm, Potter!' he thought to himself.  
  
Then he started to talk again. "I tried a few resuscitation charms, but. . . nothing worked. There was just nothing I could do. Then I. . . I closed his eyes. . . and then I ran upstairs. I found. . . Mr and Mrs Weasley. . . not far away. Ron had. . . defended them with his life. He had. . . stood in front of his parents. . . trying to save them. But they had killed him. . . and they were. . . also dead. I tried. . . again the curses I used on Ron, but. . . again to no avail. The Deatheaters had already left. . . or so I thought. There was. . . nothing I could do. They were. . . dead. All three of them. . . Mr and Mrs Weasley, just lying there. . . and Ron. . . my best friend. . ."  
  
Harry paused again and took a few deep breaths. Snape made no sound. Harry wondered what the man was thinking, but he didn't want to look at him to try and read some expression on his face.  
  
"It was then that I kind of. . . broke down." Harry whispered. "You can imagine what that was like. I kind of lost my mind. I. . . I kneeled there. . . crying in front of the bodies. . . for a while, and. . . and soon I heard footsteps. . . footsteps approaching. But I didn't realise what that. . . meant. Then he was suddenly. . . standing right behind me. Wormtail. He. . . spoke. He said. . . He said: 'You're not looking very. . . heroic at the moment, Potter. Are you. . . not feeling well?' He was grinning down at me. . . and I just. . . stared at that traitor. Then he. . . he shot a Stupefy at me with that. . . fucking silver hand of his. The thing is so. . . powerful. . . that I had no chance to shake it off. I. . . blacked out immediately. When I woke up, I was. . . I was. . . I was at the. . ."  
  
"You were at the Ministry of Magic?" Snape said in an atypically gentle voice.  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "Yes." He said quietly. "I was at the Ministry. . . in a dark cell. A few minutes after I had woken up. . . a handful aurors came, and. . . and they. . . they spat at me, and they. . . they beat me up. . . but I didn't care. I don't think I cared about anything at that moment. Then they. . . they dragged me into a room. . . the office of the Minister. Fudge that fool. And. . . and Sirius. . . that traitor I once called my Godfather. . . he was there, too. The aurors left me with them. . . the three of us were alone. . . and two aurors were guarding the door from outside. At the time. . ."  
  
Harry let out a bitter laugh.  
  
"At the time I thought Sirius was there to help me. I actually ran to him and hugged him. I think for a moment he was a bit perplexed because he didn't react, but then, he. . . he pushed me away so fiercely that I fell to the floor. Fudge. . . Fudge called the aurors, so I wouldn't. . . 'try anything' again. The aurors grabbed my arms. . . and Sirius. . . Sirius said. . . I'll never forget what he said." Harry whispered and shut his eyes. "He said: 'So you've been one of them all the time, Potter? That's your way to. . . thank your parents for all they did for you?' And I. . . I didn't understand, you see. . . I yelled: 'What are you all talking about?' and he shouted. . . he shouted back: 'They're all dead, Potter! Are you happy now? You killed half of the Weasleys and I don't want to know how many others before that were never proved! Fudge told me everything, Potter! I. . . I can't believe I ever trusted you.' And we yelled like that for a while. . . I don't remember exactly what was said, but I learned that they all thought I was a Dark Wizard. . . and that. . . that I had killed. . . them. . . and others. At one point Fudge. . . Fudge that monster laid a hand onto his shoulders and. . . led him to his desk. Sirius actually let himself be. . . hugged by that. . . Fudge person. . . while he abandoned me. I think I started to cry again at that point. I was so mad at Sirius. He. . . Sirius looked so. . . so sad and defeated. . . but I have no pity for him. I don't know what exactly Fudge told him, but. . . you'd think he'd believe his godson more than a corrupt politician. Anyway. . . he turned around to me and said. . . he said: 'This will set things straight, Potter. Goodbye.' And he signed some parchments that Fudge had given him. It was the file about my trial. . . a trial that was never held. This. . . this rotten piece of paper was enough to get me years of hell. A fucking piece of paper with a few fucking signatures practically ruined my life. Anyway, I was dragged away, struggling against the aurors, yelling at Sirius that I never did anything like the things they accused me of. But he just ignored me. They dragged me out of the room, through the Ministry building. I fainted at some point and when I woke up I officially was an Azkaban prisoner. Albus, Hermione and Minerva came the next day. They said that they were allowed to visit me once a year. . . they said they didn't believe any of what the Ministry proclaimed, which I was very happy to hear. . . they said they'd fight for my freedom. . . they tried for long, you know, but they had no chance against the Ministry, not even Albus. And they said. . . they said that I'd come out when I was seventy-something. . . and that it would be alright again. I knew it wasn't, and I don't think it will ever really be."  
  
Harry looked up again. Harry and Snape met eyes. Potter's expression was grim. Snape was glad about that. For a while Harry had stuttered and shaken so much that Snape had feared he might actually burst into tears, even though it was very unlikely for Potter. But then the incredible sadness in the younger man's voice had changed to anger and disappointment. Snape was glad it hadn't come to a breakdown. He wouldn't have known what to do in that situation.  
  
"Well, that would be all I can say about that." Harry continued. "I spent several years in Azkaban. . . but you ought to know exactly what that feels like."  
  
"I do." Snape replied.  
  
They sat in silence, each thinking about what had happened at that night, why the people had done what they had done, and how it could have come different.  
  
"Why did you just tell me this?" Snape quietly asked after several minutes of silence.  
  
Harry smiled slightly. "I just told you this because I want you to trust me, since we will be housemates for a while from now on and I don't think that will work too well with no trust. Also I want to hear your story, and why would you trust me with your story if I wasn't even ready to tell you mine? And a third reason: This part of my past influenced my life a great deal. . . and it still does. Perhaps it'll help you get to know me."  
  
Snape blinked. "You said you want to hear my story. Why?"  
  
"For the same reasons I told you mine." Harry answered with a grin. "And another: I've always been. . . a bit nosy. I like to know stuff."  
  
He was a bit surprised when Snape smiled back. "Now that's true. . . nosy you are. Well. . . alright, Potter. But I fear it won't be nearly as heartbreaking as yours was. You do want to know what got me imprisoned, I expect?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Well, it wasn't that exciting, really." Snape stated. "Some of the Death Eaters. . . me and a few others. . . were out attacking a small village. . . many Muggleborns lived there, and some squibs. It was not part of any of the Dark Lord's big plans, but just some fun for his servants in-between. I found it disgusting. Anyway, we were there, doing. . . the usual. After a while, aurors arrived; somebody must have called them. We had been ordered to disapparate as soon as the Ministry came for help, and not to risk anything. I was about to do just that when a Death Eater stunned me from behind. I'm not sure who it was. Voldemort had suspected that I spied for Albus. . . and I must admit it was one of the best. . . or one of the worst, depends on how you see it. . . punishments he could have come up with."  
  
"They gave you to the enemy." Harry said.  
  
Snape nodded. "That they did. I woke up in a Ministry cell, much like you. . . but nobody came to see me before my trial was held. . . in contrary to you, I actually got one. Albus spoke and tried to defend me, saying that I was a spy. . . it was no use. Fudge doesn't like me, and he wanted me out of the way. He saw his chance and took it. Even Albus Dumbledore couldn't do anything against it."  
  
A pause.  
  
"After the trial Albus came to talk to me. He said he would come visit me often. . . and I forbade him to. I can't exactly tell why, but I just didn't feel like seeing people from outside. I would have been seeing what I could have had. And I would have wanted to know what was going on in the world. And then there would have been two possibilities: Everything is just fine outside and I feel awful because little old me is locked away, or the Dark Lord is getting too much power and life outside is hell. In that case I would have felt bad because I couldn't do anything to help them. . . from my position in Azkaban."  
  
Harry nodded. "I understand that."  
  
"Well, then there is nothing more to tell." Snape finished. "Except that I suffered in Azkaban in a way that I'm not able to describe with words. . . but I don't need to tell you what that's like."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
For a while they sat there in silence, looking at each other. The two men shared the terrible experience of having been in the world's cruellest prison for a long time, and that experience built an understanding between them of a kind that not many knew. That alone didn't make them friends, but it pushed them forwards on their way to become just that.  
  
Suddenly Snape started to laugh.  
  
Harry frowned, fearing that it might be a side-effect of Azkaban. "Anything wrong, Snape?" he carefully asked.  
  
"No, Potter, there's nothing wrong. And that's just it. The irony of it all." Replied the amused wizard.  
  
A pause.  
  
"I don't think I understand what you are talking about, Snape." Harry stated, confused.  
  
Snape was still grinning. "You see. . .", he explained, "I used to think that you were a spoilt, big-headed brat with too much money and so much fame that it made you the most arrogant child around. I dreaded being anywhere near you, seeing your face, hearing your voice or taking notice of you in any other way. Teaching your class was awful."  
  
Harry smiled, seeing where Snape was going. "My feeling were similar, you know." He said. "I considered you a greasy git with a cold heart, who got a kick out of torturing defenceless little students."  
  
Snape snorted, faking an insulted face.  
  
Harry laughed aloud. "I avoided you and everything that reminded me of you in any way possible, I, and the classmates that were sitting around me, groaned every single time we got our timetables because Potions always happened to be the first thing Monday morning. . . and yes, your lessons were awful. . . so was the fact that you always took points off us and never off the Slytherins. And your damned detentions were even worse. . ."  
  
"I get the point!" Snape said, grinning at what he knew all his students, except for the Slytherins, thought of him. It was just funny to hear one say it aloud, directly to his face.  
  
Again the two men just stared and smiled at each other.  
  
Snape was the next one to speak.  
  
"Then I was thrown into hell for several long and terrible years, and I was freed, by you of all people, only yesterday. Now I'm sitting in a neon green but in every other aspect just perfect, comfortable armchair, having lunch with my least favourite student ever, getting along with him surprisingly well and feeling better than I did in a damned long time. . . while I used to think that if I ever got out of Azkaban alive I'd be broken in every way imaginable. Do you see the irony of it all?"  
  
"I do." Harry answered. "And I'm enjoying myself as well. . . odd, after everything that happened to us you'd thing we wouldn't behave like that, huh?"  
  
"My point exactly, Potter."  
  
Harry smiled. Then he snipped his fingers once. A bottle two glasses appeared on the table, and he filled the glasses with the liquid from the bottle. Snape raised an eyebrow as Harry gave him one of the glasses.  
  
Snape grabbed the glass and took a close look at it. "You want me to drink that?" he asked.  
  
Harry smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to poison you. It's champagne."  
  
"Champagne?" Snape repeated.  
  
"Yes." Harry explained. "Muggle alcohol."  
  
Harry raised his glass. "To a future that's better than the past, Snape."  
  
Snape smiled. He raised his glass and ticked it against Harry's. "To a future that's a hell lot better than the past, Potter." He said.  
  
Together they drank.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
It was about the same time two days later. Again the two men were sitting in Harry's living room, having supper. But the food didn't taste as good.  
  
They both had spent the last two days reading through Harry's books, studying, learning and memorising as many spells, curses and countercurses as they could, especially darker magic, which they expected they would need for their plan.  
  
They had thought everything through. Snape, who didn't have his wand and was so unable to cast any spells, would watch for complications in form of goblins and Ministry officials, while Harry would go deeper in, and get the things they'd come for. It would all work well, or it should. 'Voldemort did it easily when he wasn't even at the heights of his power, then I shall do it easily with Snape's help.' Harry thought.  
  
"Are you ready?" he asked.  
  
"I don't think it is possible to really be ready to assist a crazy convict in robbing the safest bank of the world." Snape answered. "Honestly, Potter, I think the very idea is insane. But yes, I am as ready as I'll ever be."  
  
Harry smiled. "Good, then it's settled. We shall start at midnight."  
  
+ + + + + + + + + + + END CHAPTER!!!  
  
Some answers to your questions:  
  
1.) Why is Sirius acting so out of character? Sirius' life hasn't been easy. Imagine, he's been in Azkaban himself for 12 years, then been in hiding, then - I think I mentioned it briefly once in the story - Harry caught Wormtail (perhaps I'll go into detail about that later), Sirius was freed. Fudge gave him a fairly high position in the Ministry, and he finally learned to trust people again, made new friends, got control of his life again. It was the best thing that ever happened to him. Then suddenly Fudge, one of his closer knew friends who he feels he owes a lot to (like his job) comes to him and tells him in the most gentle way possible that his godson has betrayed him. I think that Sirius is so crushed that he doesn't think so far as perhaps it's all a lie. He has been able to trust Fudge in every way so far since he got free, Fudge has helped him up, blah, blah, blah. . . the idea that Fudge, his friend, would lie to him about something as serious and important sound ridiculous to him. After Harry's imprisonment, Fudge is even nicer than before. Why would he lie, really? Sirius gets from sadness to anger rather fast. He gets obsessed with his work, wanting to punish everybody who's evil - that means, to him, everybody who doesn't stick to the rules of the ministry very closely. For Sirius, the Ministry of Magic is the definition of good. He works so hard for the ministry that he doesn't realise that with this work he harms the real good side. He is, of course, aware of Voldemort's existence, but he trusts Fudge's decision to ignore him, because that would be "best for the magical community". In contrast to Fudge, though, he's not aware of Voldemort's activity. But I'll come to that later. You'll get to know more about Sirius' behaviour and its reasons in later chapters, I promise. But I'll say one thing: I intend to make it worse. *grin* (Of course, the will be a happy ending. . . partly, at least. You can look forward to the scene when Sirius realises what exactly he's doing. I certainly look forward to writing it.)  
  
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2.) Will Remus appear in this story? Yes, he will. You'll meet him in 24, and he'll play a rather large role later, and in the end.  
  
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3.) Will Harry find out that Snape tipped the aurors off that he was at Hogwarts, and how will he react? Yes, I think Harry will find that out, but you'll have to wait for a while. As to how he will react. . . you'll just have to read.  
  
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4.) Whatever happened to Hagrid? To tell the truth, I just left him out of this story because I had no direct use for him. Perhaps I'll bring him in later, if I get a good idea. If I do, then I'll explain about his background.  
  
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5.) You keep mixing things up with that snake. . . I know I am. And I'm sorry. But it's Sammy, and it's a girl. Well, she's a girl. Just so you know in case I keep writing it wrong.  
  
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6.) Does Dumbledore know that Draco's a Deatheater? Simple answer: Not yet. . .  
  
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7.) Will this be slash or H/G or H/Hr or anything at all? First of all, this will not be slash. I have read some slash fanfics that I liked and several that I didn't like, and I don't think that I'll ever write a slash story because it absolutely isn't my style. And I won't do anything against my style just because it's a trend. That would be stupid. As to romance, I won't pair Harry with Ginny - she's married and she'll always be in this story. Harry won't end up with Hermione either. If you want H/Hr, read what Lori Summers writes (really good stuff). My intentions now are that Harry will not get together with anybody, and it's unlikely that I'll change that. I'm not good at romances, I think. Perhaps there'll be a random romance (though I hadn't planned it as I began all this): Hr/D. But only random. You'll see.  
  
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Alright, that's it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter - OTTILCHEN 


	24. Chapter 23: Gringotts

Chapter 23: Gringotts  
  
It was half past eleven.  
  
Severus Snape and Harry Potter were sitting in the younger wizard's newly arranged living-room in the Chamber of Secrets. The place was now probably as safe as Hogwarts or more after everything they had done, Harry figured; yet is was so close to hundreds of the best educated Ministry men that nobody would expect two convicts to hide there. Anyway, only very few people knew where it was, and so there was not much for Harry and Snape to fear there. The Chamber of Secrets was just perfect, and so was this living- room. . . at least that was Harry Potter's opinion.  
  
"I cannot understand why a sane man like you decorates his very own room like that, Potter." Snape said.  
  
"Well, Snape, it is none of your concern, really." Harry replied with a smile. "As you said, this is my very own room."  
  
"Of course it is. But I am your neighbour now and we spend rather much time in here. So yes, it does concern me also."  
  
"Then I suggest we spend most time in your rooms in the future, it that's what you want. . . though I think I'll miss the colours, especially my green furniture. But to get you a cozy little room, we need money. We are about to get this money. So let's get back to the plan, okay?"  
  
Snape smiled back. "I do see a point in what you just said, Potter. You see, the sooner we get done here, the sooner I'll get out of what you call a living-room. Though I believe we have planned everything carefully, have we not?" he asked with a sigh. "We've spent the last two days going through tons of books. I probably learned more than I ever did at Hogwarts. You hardly slept. I am perfectly aware that breaking into Gringotts will be anything but easy and that only a fool could underestimate a task of that sort. . . yet you must admit there is no way to prepare better than we have done. There is nothing more to plan, Potter."  
  
Harry nodded. "I know. . . yes, I know. I just want to check it through once more before we go, okay?"  
  
"Okay, let's check it. . . again." Snape said with a small smile. "Honestly, Potter, if you had been so ambitious and worked so carefully in school as you do now. . ."  
  
Harry grinned. "I did work extremely hard in the last few years of school. . . perhaps you just failed to notice."  
  
Snape smiled as well. "How dare you talk back to a teacher, Potter? That's detention tonight. . . with Filch!!!"  
  
Harry shook his head. "You're not my teacher anymore. And anyway, something makes me think tonight will be much worse than any detention with Filch ever was."  
  
The surprisingly still good mood was gone immediately, and the two men were as serious as they needed to be for what they had planned so carefully.  
  
"Alright, Potter, enough chit chat for now, I'd say. Do you want to go over the checklist now or don't you?" Snape suggested.  
  
"Er. . . right." Harry said. "So. . . you've got the Portkeys?"  
  
"Yes." Snape said.  
  
"Both of them? Where are the Portkeys, and what are their functions?"  
  
Snape sighed, having to list it again. "I got this key of whatever in the right pocked of my cloak. . . it takes me back to the Chamber of Secrets." He said, taking the key out of his pocket and showing it to Harry before putting it back.  
  
"Password?"  
  
"The password is 'Snakeface', Potter. . . wherever you picked that up."  
  
"Right." Harry said, nodding. "I got the same thing at the same place. . . just that it's a simple handkerchief. Your key, by the way, is a key to the Great Hall. What else do you have?"  
  
"I've got my fob watch in the left pocket of my cloak." Snape again replied, though not showing it to Harry. "It transports me directly to you, and I won't pull it out now because it does not require a password to work. I don't want to land on your head and break your neck. . . at least not before this job is done and I've got your money."  
  
Harry snorted. "How kind of you. Again, I've got the same thing in form of the sole of my right shoe. Also not to be touched. Then I've got a few Portkeys you don't have. You see, the sole of my left shoe works just like the sole of my right shoe, the only difference being that it doesn't take me to you, but to the entrance Hall of Gringotts. Also no password needed."  
  
Snape nodded. "I know. Is there anything else, Potter?"  
  
"Yeah, I've got another two Portkeys. . . they take me to each other. I lay one down somewhere, and the other one will bring me to the first if I touch it and say 'Phoenix'. I read about that system in. . ."  
  
"You don't understand, Potter." Snape interrupted. "I wanted to know if there was anything else that concerns me. . . because listening to your monologue is quite tiring."  
  
Harry grinned, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, sorry. . . Anyway, as a last point there's the communication system."  
  
"Ah, yes. . . through this complicated charm that took you ten minutes to cast, you hear everything I hear, and vice versa. We must keep talking all the time and not lose contact, so we'll know immediately if there's anything wrong." Snape said. "It's not like you haven't explained that to me. . . in fact you have several times. . . anyway, if that's all there is to talk about, I suggest that we get going. If we keep thinking about what could go wrong, we'll just get too nervous and mess it all up. Believe me, I'm speaking from experience."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You do not seem the type of person to mess things up."  
  
To his surprise, Snape smiled grimly. "You don't know me enough to be able to judge that. Believe me, boy. . . even I was once young and foolish."  
  
They spoke no other word as they walked to the Apparation area.  
  
A short while later they were standing in a narrow, dark passage in Muggle London. The walk to their destination was short and uneventful.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
The mood of Hogwarts' students and staff had improved a lot since Deputy Minister Black had, at breakfast, made an announcement that lessons would be held again, and that all students were allowed to finally go back to sleeping in their dormitories. They had to be in their common rooms by six o'clock though, and the castle was still full of aurors, for security. Yet the Great Hall had roared with cheers at the prospect of being able to leave the Great Hall, finally.  
  
But no matter how good it was to be back in his comfortable bed after having spent five nights in a tight sleeping bag on the floor, Ronny Longbottom just couldn't sleep. So he stood up, put on his slippers and left the dorm, wearing only his pyjamas, which did not matter for he expected to be alone.  
  
He wasn't.  
  
His two best friends, Leon Creevey and Martin Whitby, were sitting on one of the most popular sofas in the common room, directly in front of the fireplace. The three boys looked at each other. Suddenly Leon grinned. "Oh, let me guess. . . you couldn't sleep either?"  
  
Ronny grinned back and sat down next to them wordlessly.  
  
Martin was holding an old Daily Prophet. It had arrived two days ago and caused much worry in the whole wizarding world. The sensational article stood, of course, on the front page, and Martin and Leon were just reading through it for the tenth time.  
  
Ronny had another look, as well:  
  
* * * Another escape from Azkaban: Is the Ministry defenceless against Dark Wizards?  
  
Severus Snape, a convicted Dark Wizard, escaped Azkaban, the supposedly safest prison on this planet, last night. He is the third wizard ever to successfully escape from Azkaban; two of the three cases happened in the last six months. The wizarding community is terrified.  
  
We think, and our readers probably do so as well, that this cannot be a coincidence. Is the Ministry too weak to protect us from evil? Or do they just not care enough about our safety? We asked Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, about that.  
  
His answer: "Oh, the whole thing is rubbish. Several people have already died trying to escape; I don't know why people make such a fuss about Snape. The man alone won't have come far; there's nothing particularly dangerous about him. He can't possibly have reached the mainland, he'll have drowned in the sea or have been eaten by some big fish. There really is nothing to worry about. And now leave me alone, please, I'm a busy man and God knows I've got better things to do than spend my time arguing with some silly reporters who see a tragedy in everything. . ."  
  
Because the Minister does not seem too concerned about Snape, we spoke directly to the only witness of Snape's escape. The auror Seamus Finnigan was just checking on the prisoners when the man broke out.  
  
"I don't think the situation is as harmless as Minister Fudge makes it seem." Finnigan says. "He didn't break out alone, you know. He had help. I was just walking past his cell when somebody shot an unusually strong 'Stupefy' charm at me. It was a man's voice, but I didn't see anybody, so he must have been invisible. I blacked out immediately, but I think I know who it was. I believe it was Potter. Not many people can cast such a strong 'Stupefy', and the voice sounded very much like Potter's. God knows we have reason to worry if Potter decides to get Azkaban convicts to help him with whatever evil plans he has."  
  
The Daily Prophet fully agrees with the auror. We should all be very careful and watch out for anything unusual if we want to survive these dark times with two convicted murderers on the loose.  
  
We will keep you informed about everything that will happen. * * *  
  
After having read through the article again, the three boys stared into the magical always-burning fire for a while, saying nothing, just thinking. They were going through dark times. Half a year ago they had been children with nothing to worry about, or at least they considered their little childhood problems nothing now. Now there was a Dark Wizard occupying their thoughts; a Dark Wizard who had no conscience, no problem with murder, a serious problem with his sanity, and worst of all, magical powers beyond belief.  
  
"You know, this all makes me feel. . ." Martin interrupted the silence, "It makes me feel. . . well, plainly stupid. I should have realised that there was something wrong with that 'Evans' person."  
  
Leon nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it's not like there were not enough clues. All his powers, the wand-less magic. . . normally such strong people are known for their powers. But nobody had ever heard of 'Evans' before he started to teach here. . . because no 'Evans' existed. Or his Quidditch skills. It's a known fact that Potter refused several offers from famous Quidditch teams after he graduated. And we've all seen Evans fly more than once."  
  
"Or his eyes." Ronny said. "I mean, how many people have such bright green eyes? And pictures of Potter have been all over the newspapers. Or all in all, the very way he behaved. I did tell you about that evening in Hogsmeade, didn't I?"  
  
He received nods from both his friends.  
  
"When I said how much I despised Potter, that traitor, 'Evans' made those glasses explode. I didn't make the connection before it was all over."  
  
Again his friends nodded. There was a pause.  
  
Then Leon sighed. "Dumbledore must feel like shit now."  
  
His friends looked at him.  
  
"I mean, he hired that. . . murderer. He's practically responsible that Potter. . . 'taught' us here as school. We were all in so much danger because Dumbledore hired him as DADA teacher. And it's obvious how much he cares about his students."  
  
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Martin said. "Poor Dumbledore. . . I like the guy. But hey. . . do you know what I still don't understand about the whole thing?"  
  
"What?" Ronny asked.  
  
"That seventh-year boy, Kevin, told me that he's seen a picture of Granger in her schooldays and a guy with red hair in Potter's rooms. . . he saw it when we pulled that prank with the snake and the dungbombs."  
  
"Yes. . . so?" Leon asked.  
  
"Don't you understand?" Martin asked. "That must have been Ron Weasley with Granger there, because they were good friends at school."  
  
Ronny nodded. "Yeah. Mum told me that uncle Ron, Granger and. . . that murderer were an inseparable trio at Hogwarts. Best friends. But it turned out that it was all show from Potter's side. He must have hated them all the time, or I don't think he would have been able to kill his supposedly best friend."  
  
"My point exactly." Martin interrupted. "If Potter hates them so much, why does he keep a picture of them? And did you notice how well he got along with Granger?"  
  
Leon nodded. "That certainly doesn't make sense. But I don't think Granger is involved in anything. After all, she certainly hates Potter after what he did to Ron and Ron's parents."  
  
"Yeah. I guess that's the reason she doesn't want to talk about Potter, too." Leon said. "She must feel bitter as hell."  
  
"And now he betrayed her again." Ronny said, anger in his voice. "First he acted their friends, then he killed Ron and gets arrested. She lost both her best friends. Then he broke out, became teacher, became her colleague, befriended her again. All the time she had no clue who he was. Then it turns out he was her school day friend turned traitor. And boom, he flees from the Ministry and she is alone again. Her life really can't be too pleasant. . ."  
  
"I wander why he did it. What made him go dark. . ." Martin said, but was interrupted when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open.  
  
The three boys turned around in shock at being caught in the common room in the middle of the night. The fact that it was a teacher didn't make it any better.  
  
Climbing through the portrait hole was Hermione Granger. She looked tired and worn out. The boys felt sorry for their teacher immediately, who they knew was going through a very hard time.  
  
"Professor, we're sorry, we only came here to. . ." Martin started, but did not really know what to say to excuse the fact that they were out of their dorms this late.  
  
To their surprise, Granger gave a tired smile. "You only came here to think about everything, didn't you, boys?"  
  
"How'd you know?" Leon asked, surprised.  
  
"Well, that's the reason I am here." Granger answered. "The last few days were rather hard for all of us, I assume. So don't worry, I will not punish you."  
  
The teacher sat down in an armchair in front of the fireplace, next to her students.  
  
The three boys looked at Professor Granger who looked asleep on her feet, then at each other, and at the teacher again.  
  
"Should we. . . leave you alone, Professor?" Ronny asked.  
  
They got the tired smile again. "Yes. . . yes, that would be nice of you. Thank you, Mr Longbottom. . ."  
  
"Good night, Professor."  
  
"G'night, boys. . ."  
  
The three friends went back to their dormitories, and fell asleep as soon as they lied down in their beds.  
  
*** +++++ ***  
  
Harry Potter was standing in the entrance hall of Gringotts bank in Diagon Alley, London, in front of the ordinary looking door that led you to unimaginable amounts of gold and other things of great value. The shape and design of the door was no different from the other doors leading out of the hall, but since he had been there so many times in his life, Harry knew exactly where to go.  
  
"Can you hear me, Snape?" he tested the communication system.  
  
"Perfectly, Potter." Came the answer quickly.  
  
"Good. I'll get to work now. You tell me if anything extraordinary happens out there." Harry said.  
  
"Sure, since that's about all I can do with no wand. And now go in there and do what we came for, will you?"  
  
Instead of answering, Harry just cast the first charm, aloud. "Periculi indes occludo!" he said, his arms spread. Yellow light emerged his hands and approached the door. The door started to glow, the light spread and soon the whole hall was glowing. Then the light vanished. There was no visible effect, but Harry was sure that his charm had worked. He had switched off the alarm system that would notify the ministry and the goblins of his presence.  
  
"Are you all right, Potter?" Snape's voice rang in his ear.  
  
Harry realised that he was panting. 'God, he can even hear me breath.' he thought.  
  
"I'm fine." Harry answered. "I had just. . . expected this to be. . . a bit less strenuous."  
  
Snape snorted. "You cast the first charm and are already out of breath. . . really, boy, are you sure that you know what you're doing there?"  
  
"I hope so." Harry said. "I'm going in now."  
  
He didn't bother to do any hand weaving but instead pressed his hands over his ears as he forcefully opened the door by causing a small explosion. Harry chuckled as he heard Snape make a noise that sounded much like a surprised "Whoa!" and was very unlike anything he had ever heard from the man.  
  
"Next time you do something as loud as this, please warn me before!" Snape's irritated voice said.  
  
Harry grinned. "Okay." he said lazily. "I just. . . forced the door a bit. Anyway, it's open now."  
  
Snape let out his typical grunt again. "Congratulations to that."  
  
"Now, here's the huge Gringotts maze of narrow passages and caves before me. It doesn't really look welcoming."  
  
"Did you expect it to?"  
  
"No." Harry answered. "Anyway, I'll try the spell to find my way around here. Might take a while."  
  
"I know." Snape commented. "I'll sit back and relax."  
  
And he did.  
  
Severus Snape had decided that the most inconspicuous way of keeping an eye on the bank from outside was to settle down on the ground somewhere near but not too close, disguised as a beggar. And it was very important for him to be inconspicuous both because of his role in Potter's little bank robbing project and because of the fact that he was a fugitive convict.  
  
And that was why he was so shocked when he saw a man in a dark cloak walk down the street towards him.  
  
Snape kept in his breath and quickly wrapped the blanket around him so that only a small part of his face was visible. Then he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. . . which was the normal thing for a beggar on the ground to be doing at this hour of day.  
  
He knew that if that man, whoever he was, recognised him as Snape the fugitive, he would be in serious trouble. He was defenceless without his wand, and Potter was not really near, either. He knew he would have been kissed by a dementor before Potter had the chance to save him. If Potter would even bother try. Sure the man had broken into Azkaban to get him out and Potter had been strangely nice in the few days they had spent together so far, but Snape was not so arrogant or naïve to think that Potter would walk through the ministry building itself to get him out.  
  
The black cloaked man came nearer and nearer. Snape kept his eyes shut, praying that he would not be recognised. The footsteps approached, getting louder. Perhaps that man would not even notice him, would just walk past him.  
  
But the man did not just walk past. He stopped when he was standing directly next to the beggar.  
  
Severus Snape was getting so nervous that he seriously feared he might betray himself by starting to shake or something.  
  
Then something hit him. It was not a curse or anything dangerous, it must have been some small object from the way it felt. Yet Snape flinched.  
  
If the stranger noticed, he didn't care, because he just walked away. Snape dared to open his eyes. The departing man looked very familiar; though he had turned his back to Snape, the wizard found that he looked extremely like Lucius Malfoy. Snape knew Malfoy well, and he had thought that he would recognise that Death Eater anywhere. But he must have been wrong, because the black cloaked person could not possibly have been Lucius Malfoy. Because that Death Eater, having got a proper punishment for everything he had done, was still rotting in Azkaban.  
  
Or so he thought.  
  
Then Snape turned his attention to whatever it was that the man had thrown at him. The thing had dropped to the ground. Snape picked it up and looked at it.  
  
It was a galleon. A golden galleon. The man had just pitied a poor beggar.  
  
It took him lots of self control not to laugh about his own paranoia, but he didn't want to disturb Potter at the complicated things he was just casting.  
  
Severus Snape had got really comfortable lying on the ground with the warm blanket wrapped around him, when Potter's constant babbling of a complicated curse finally stopped.  
  
"You done there?" he asked.  
  
"Yep!" Harry answered, a bit exhausted, but yet happy. "And it seems to have worked. There's a trail of red fog here. . . it must be leading me to my vault. I'll just follow it."  
  
Outside, Snape frowned. "You do know that it's not that easy, don't you, Potter?"  
  
Harry frowned as well. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Honestly, Potter, sometimes I really doubt your intelligence. . . don't you think that Gringotts goblins have made sure that nobody can quickly find a vault with a simple tracking spell?" Snape asked.  
  
"It was not that simple. . ."  
  
"Of course not, but they know that someone who is crazy enough to try and break in there must at least be damned powerful. You do know what that thing which you just cast does, I expect?"  
  
"Of course." Harry answered. "It shows me the shortest way to my vault."  
  
"Exactly." Snape answered. "But don't think that the shortest way is the way those wagons of theirs use. It certainly is not. No, boy; you better expect all kinds of traps on your way. Believe me, this place really is safe."  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"Oh." Harry said. "Well, then I better be careful."  
  
Harry carefully walked through the red fog for a while, all the time chatting with Snape to keep the contact up. They talked about nothing important really, but about some funny experiences of their pasts, both being very surprised about what they heard.  
  
"The first potion I ever seriously tried was a Polyjuice Potion." Snape had just told Harry.  
  
"And?" Harry asked.  
  
"And what?"  
  
"Did it work?"  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
"Snape! Did it work?" Harry pushed.  
  
"You must of course consider that the Polyjuice is a very advanced potion; I wouldn't give it to anyone under fifth year. . . and I was only seven when I tried it." Snape answered.  
  
"You're avoiding the question." Harry said, grinning. "Then I suppose that it didn't work?"  
  
Silence again.  
  
Snape finally told him. "I blew up the cauldron, and the potion was all over the room. My parents were not very pleased."  
  
Rounding another corner in Gringotts maze, Harry burst into laugher. "An understandable reaction. Did your mother make you clean the whole. . . HOLY SHIT!!!" Harry suddenly yelled.  
  
"What's wrong?" Snape demanded instantly.  
  
Harry just stared at the thing.  
  
"Potter, what is wrong? ANSWER ME, Potter!"  
  
". . ."  
  
"POTTER!"  
  
Harry snapped out of it as a burst of flame came his way. He dodged.  
  
"There's a big, green dragon trying to toast me!" Harry replied, a hint of panic in his voice.  
  
"Alright, just stay calm." Snape advised, thinking fast. A dragon. A dragon was easy to handle. One just needed to. . . "Attack its eyes!" Snape said. "The weakness of a dragon are its eyes!"  
  
"I know. His eyes are glowing green. That's not normal for a dragon, is it? I. . ."  
  
Harry had to dodge the fire again.  
  
"Potter?"  
  
"I'm alright." Harry said, a bit out of breath. "I think that. . . the glowing is. . . a pretty strong protection spell I once read about. I'll try to get past."  
  
Harry shot a curse. Nothing.  
  
"Doesn't. . . work." He told Snape. "I'll try harder."  
  
Harry concentrated hard. A violet light came out of his hands again. It sped towards the huge animal's eyes. It hit the eyes. The dragon growled loudly in pain. Flames emerged from its mouth again. Then it fell. And fell.  
  
Harry had to run out of the way so he wouldn't be buried under the monster.  
  
"It's. . . knocked. . . out." Harry informed Snape. "Finally. But. . . It'll be. . . okay. . . in a few hours."  
  
"You're exhausted." Snape said.  
  
"Yes." Harry admitted. "A bit. I'm going. . . past now."  
  
And he walked on and continued to chat about unimportant things with Snape. There was nothing else in his way, until he reached his destination.  
  
The red fog ended directly in front of a big door which Harry recognised immediately.  
  
"I'm there." Harry said. "I'm standing at the entrance of my vault."  
  
He heard Snape whistle. "Not bad, Potter." The elder wizard said. "I hadn't thought you'd make it there in one peace."  
  
"Then you don't know me well." Harry answered with a grin.  
  
It took Harry Potter several minutes of concentrated work and many deep dark curses and spells to break into his own Gringotts vault, which had been claimed by the Ministry of Magic.  
  
"Finally." he gasped as the door burst open. "I don't think I've ever used so much dark magic."  
  
Snape snorted. "Is that really your opinion?" he asked.  
  
Harry frowned, not really understanding what Snape meant. "Is what really my opinion?"  
  
"You said that you had just used dark magic. What makes you think that it was dark?"  
  
"Well. . . I learned all these curses from my books of Dark Magic."  
  
Snape snorted again. "Yes, people always try to tell good from bad very easily. They put the good curses into good books, give them to their friends and say 'Hey, isn't this a practical little spell?'. Then there are the bad curses. They try to forget them, tell their children never to use them, and hate everyone who has anything to do with them. People think they are able to tell a good guy from a bad guy, a good curse from a bad curse. I find that disgusting."  
  
Harry pondered that over for a moment.  
  
"As far as I am concerned," Snape said, "the nature of a curse or spell always depends on the way it is used. In some aspects I agree with them. There is, for example, never a good purpose behind a Cruciatus curse. . . at least I cannot come up with one. Okay. But if you use the killing curse to rid the world of the Dark Lord and save thousands of lives, is that a bad thing? Does that make you evil?"  
  
"I suppose not." Harry replied, seeing truth behind what Snape was telling him.  
  
"You see!" Snape said. "On the other hand. . . Imagine somebody is standing in front of a cliff and you hit him with the very noble and useful spell 'Expelliarmus'. . . in which you have put as much power as you could, of course. As a result, the person falls off and dies. About the same will happen if you hit a person who is riding a broom with a 'Stupefy'. But neither 'Stupefy' nor 'Expelliarmus' are considered Dark Magic."  
  
"You're right." Harry said softly. "I honestly never seriously thought about that. People just call something dark when its normal use is dark. But there can be several uses."  
  
Harry could not see Snape smile. "Yes, Potter, that's exactly how I see it. Usually, people break into Gringotts to steal very valuable things from others. You are breaking in there to get what is yours, and I think that you have every right to."  
  
Harry chuckled. "Very well said, Professor. There was just one mistake in it."  
  
"Which would be?"  
  
"Usually people do not break into Gringotts at all."  
  
Snape snorted again. "Oh yes. . . because usually people are neither damned powerful nor insane."  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
"And now let's get to work. . . we don't have endless time." Snape suggested.  
  
"Alright." Harry agreed.  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"Do you know that by this little talk about good and bad curses, and purposes behind everything. . . I probably learned more than I ever did in potions?" Harry said.  
  
"I don't doubt it, Potter." Snape replied in a sour voice, but Harry knew that he would be smiling as well.  
  
Then he got to work.  
  
When Harry Potter left his vault again, several things had changed. There was no more money in there. It had been transported to the Chamber of Secrets by his owner. That alone had cost much time, and much power. Harry had also left a note for whoever would be the next ministry official to enter his vault.  
  
It read:  
  
+ + +  
  
To the Ministry of Magic and anybody else who is worried about my well- being:  
  
Hallo. As you might have noticed, I have just emptied my vault, which I have every right to do, since it is mine and only mine, even though I know you might disagree with that. But that is your problem. Anyway, thank you very much for taking care of it while I was preparing things here. I am currently furnishing and equipping my new place, and since it is much bigger than my old few rooms, I will use some of the money on new furniture, I think. And on lots of other things.  
  
I will spend most of my time at my new place, for I already like it very much. Do not expect to be seeing much of me. And if any of you noble aurors meet or see me at some point, please do not bother trying any stunning spells or similar little magic tricks of yours on me; they will most certainly not work too easily. The best way would be just to ignore me, for I will be ignoring you. I am a busy man and I have many better things to do than play with you guys. You have nothing to fear from me, since I do not have the slightest interest in you, or any other decent people in the magical community. Also I am not interested in any not decent people that work for the Ministry of Magic, which I am sure many of you will be glad to hear. So if you do not try to harm me, I will not harm you in any way. That is a promise.  
  
I fear that since I am so obviously out of your reach now, you might find that you have nothing more to do with your time. A tip: Instead of chasing after innocent people the way you have done in the past, you might want to keep an eye on those who are really threatening you. There are more than you think, and if you keep refusing to acknowledge that simple fact because of your cowardice, you will all go down together. And that will be more painful for you than fighting evil could possibly ever be, I guarantee you.  
  
If I get any news concerning you directly, I will let you know.  
  
Everybody (except the minister and my dearest godfather), I wish a good day to you.  
  
Harry James Potter  
  
+ + +  
  
"Okay, I'm out." Harry told Severus Snape after he had left his vault again through the hole where the door had been before he had blown it up.  
  
"Well, finally." Snape hastily answered. "It's getting dangerous out here. The sun will be rising soon. Potter, I swear if somebody recognises me here because you are taking your time in there. . ."  
  
"Relax!" Harry interrupted the man, amused that his old teacher, who had always been so calm and controlled, was starting to get nervous. "You have lots of Portkeys, Snape. Nothing can happen to you out there!"  
  
Snape gave his typical Snape-grunt. "In contrary to you, Potter, I am a careful man and do not take any more risks than I absolutely have to. That is what's kept me alive so far, you must understand. I have made pretty bad experiences with relying on luck. Your next step is the wands, am I right?"  
  
"Yep." Harry said shortly.  
  
"I happen to know where the Ministry vaults are."  
  
Harry was surprised. "You do? How?"  
  
"I had to get something from there with Lucius Malfoy once. As you know, he used to be the Dark Lord's spy in the Ministry. Anyway, he took me along, and since the Ministry vaults are very close to the Hogwarts vaults, I memorised the way easily."  
  
"Oh." Harry said. "Can you direct me there?"  
  
"When you are at the entrance of the cave, I can." Snape said.  
  
"Good. . . I'll be making my way back through the red fog now. I hope that stupid dragon is still knocked out."  
  
The dragon was still knocked out, and there were no other complications on Harry's way back. Again, the two men talked all the time, keeping contact. A long time later Harry was standing at the entrance of Gringotts' maze of caves.  
  
"Alright. Now, where to go?" he asked Snape.  
  
"Two kilometres straight forward." Snape directed him.  
  
"Two kilometres?" Harry repeated, searching his head for a spell to show exact distances.  
  
"Yes. Just go until you have passed ten cave entrances on the right side." Snape advised. Harry complied.  
  
For a whole hour, Snape directed Harry through narrow caves, over thin bridges, in all kinds of directions, and Harry was rather annoyed soon. The only advantage was that he was walking the way a wagon would take, so he didn't need to worry about any monsters (like nasty dragons) attacking him.  
  
"Are you sure you know what you are doing?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes." Snape snapped. "Hurry up now. It's getting light, the damned street is coming alive. All these shopping housewives that walk past stare at me. There are not many beggars in Diagon Alley, you see. And even less who are constantly talking to themselves. . . or at least that's what it must seem like for them. It's just a matter of time until one of them comes to near and recognises me, and calls the aurors. . . to HURRY UP, DAMNIT!" he hissed a bit too loudly, causing even more of the passing people to give him funny looks or shake their heads in disgust.  
  
"Of course." Harry said, understanding Snape's nervousness.  
  
After a few more minutes Harry was, thanks to Snape's exact directions, standing in front of ten highest security vaults, all belonging to the Ministry of Magic, and all looking exactly the same.  
  
"Now which one should I chose?" Harry wondered aloud.  
  
"That's something you'll unfortunately have to find out yourself." Snape said.  
  
Harry sighed. "Alright. Now what do I do. . ."  
  
"I thought you had thought about that long enough before you broke in there. . ." Snape sneered.  
  
"Your comments aren't helping at all, you know." Harry snapped back. Snape grunted, but didn't say anything.  
  
"I think I'll try a charm on my glasses." Harry finally decided.  
  
"You will charm your glasses?" Snape repeated.  
  
"Yes. I hope it'll work."  
  
And Harry tried, and tried again. . .  
  
"This is useless. I can see through every damned wall here. . . except for the one I need. But the charm is extremely useful. . . if I'd cast it before, I would have seen that damned dragon and not run into it. It's a pity I never tried it. . ."  
  
"A pity, yes, of course it is. Would you now please come back to the problem at hand? It's getting seriously dangerous here, you know. And it won't be any better for you in there once the bank opens. . . which it will do in precisely fifty-seven minutes, by the way." Snape interrupted.  
  
"Alright. . . I'll try something else. I know a strong curse with the same effect. I'll have to use it on the wall itself, but that shouldn't be a problem. . ." Harry said.  
  
"Wait, you fool!" Snape said dangerously loudly. Curious glances came his way again. "Of course that is a problem! These are high security vaults, boy. You'll set the alarm off!"  
  
"I'll cast that alarm destruction curse again then. . ."  
  
"And if it doesn't work? Believe me, these goblins do know how to make a place safe!" Snape said. "That's not worth it. Return without the wands."  
  
Harry sighed. "I don't think anything will happen. And if I do set the alarm off, I'll escape easily by Portkey."  
  
"Don't do that, you fool! The risk is too much. . . they'll find a way to capture you once they now that you're there. They're not stupid, you fool. Come back out without the wands!"  
  
Harry suddenly chuckled.  
  
"What!" Snape snapped, very irritated about the incompetence of his partner.  
  
"I will cast that charm, Snape. You have nothing to say in that matter. . . and I don't think you have any ways of keeping me from doing it. . . do you?"  
  
"Damn you, you stupid. . ." Snape cursed, but Harry didn't hear the rest of it because he concentrated so hard on the charm he was casting. It was the same alarm destruction charm he had used a few hours before, as he had entered the caves. It took a few minutes to cast it, but it seemed to have worked, because there was no signal of an alarm as he cast the second curse on the Ministry vaults. The second curse, which finally enabled him to see through the magical stone walls. Inspecting the contents of each vault, Harry smiled, satisfied.  
  
"I told you it would work!" He said, provocative.  
  
"It could as well have gone wrong." Snape said in a sour voice. "And it is not over yet. Be careful."  
  
"Of course." Harry assured.  
  
The ten high security vaults of the Ministry of Magic were all full.  
  
Two of the vaults were filled with obviously dark artefacts of the sort that you would expect Lucius Malfoy in the dungeons of Malfoy manor.  
  
One vault was full with wands of every person who had ever got a life sentence in Azkaban and never returned - except of Sirius Black's wand, which was of course with his owner. There were very many wands in the vault.  
  
In seven vaults, there was money, money and even more money. Of course that money belonged not to a single person or family, but to a whole government; but Harry knew that even for a government, the Ministry of Magic was damned rich.  
  
"Merlin, if you could see all this money. . ." Harry whispered.  
  
"I don't need to see it to know that they don't deserve it." Snape spat. "They're a bunch of incompetent and corrupt politicians, nothing more. Anyway. . . do what you came for, will you?"  
  
Harry did.  
  
The mechanism of the vaults was one that Harry knew. The Philosopher's stone had been in a similar vault. So Harry simply touched the door. . . and was sucked in, just like Griphook had said. Then he started his search.  
  
Harry found his own wand very quickly. . . by just holding out his hand. It flew over to him.  
  
"Hmm. . . now how do I find your wand, Snape? I'd ask you to describe it, but. . . these all look the same."  
  
Snape grunted. "You're having me on. . . are you honestly saying that you don't know how to get my wand?"  
  
"Do you?" Harry asked. "Listen, Snape, if you have any idea how I can find you want in these hundreds of wands here in less than twenty-four hours, just tell me, okay?"  
  
"Honestly, Potter. . . you've been away from the magical community for too long. Azkaban must have seriously damaged that little brain of yours. . . a pity, really, since it's never been too big anyway. . ."  
  
"Just tell me!"  
  
"There is this. . . very complex little spell, you see. . . only for the most powerful wizards. . . in fact, Filius Flitwick teaches it to his fourth year students. You just say 'Accio'. Do you think you will manage that?" Snape sneered.  
  
Harry smacked himself against the head, laughing. "God. . . God. . . I really am an idiot sometimes, aren't I?"  
  
"I've always said so." Snape agreed. "I'm glad that finally someone shares that opinion."  
  
A moment later, Harry had both his and Snape's wands safely pocketed, and put fake wands that they had prepared back into the many shelves to the other hundreds of wands that the Ministry of Magic had claimed so far. He decided that he had everything he needed and had come for. Ready to leave, he disguised his face.  
  
"Okay. . . I'll use the Portkey out now. . . it will pull me directly to you. I just hope I won't land on top of you and break your neck."  
  
"I'm lying flat on the floor. Nothing should happen. . . I hope." Snape responded.  
  
"Good." Harry said. "I will be with you in five. . . four. . . three. . . two. . . one. . ."  
  
Harry grabbed the Portkey.  
  
He was shocked when nothing happened.  
  
For a moment Harry Potter just stood there and stared at the portkey in his hand. The portkey which was supposed to have brought him out to Diagon Alley. The portkey which didn't work. The portkey which was his way out, his only way out of the dark high security vault. The only way out.  
  
"What's wrong, boy?" Snape asked. "Can you hear me? Damn it. . ."  
  
"I'm still here." Harry said flatly.  
  
"You're still in that vault? The portkey didn't work?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Try the others." Snape said.  
  
Harry did. None of his other portkeys worked, either. He was starting to panic.  
  
"Shit. . . shit shit shit. . . I can't get out, Snape. . . God, I can't get out. . . what the hell should I do now. . ."  
  
"Think up another way." Snape said. "That should be no problem for you, with all this damned power of yours. . ."  
  
"Oh, good. . . but I don't suppose you could give me a tip there, Mr Brilliant?" Harry asked, irritated.  
  
The answer he got rather confused him. "Not now. . . I've got my own problem approaching here."  
  
"What problem?" Harry asked.  
  
Snape said nothing, while Harry listened to their communication system, carefully. If he concentrated a bit, he would be able to hear what Snape heard. Soon, he did, and it made him even more nervous. There were footsteps approaching Snape. . .  
  
** +++ **  
  
"Ah. . . the noble aurors of the Ministry of Magic! What an honour to meet you, sirs. . ." Snape greeted the two men in a disguised voice.  
  
The younger one of the aurors smiled warmly at him. "Yes, er. . . Hello. You see, the reason we came here is. . . well, people have been complaining about. . . you lying here, and we wondered if you. . . no offence, sir, but could you please. . . move somewhere else?" the man asked politely.  
  
Then the elder auror shoved him out of the way, his face not apologetic, but irritated. "What my young colleague here means to say is that you better move your lazy arse away from here soon, because this is a clean street with no beggars. Go to Knockturn Alley or to whatever slimy hole you've crawled out of, but don't ever set foot in here again, do you hear me, old man?"  
  
Severus Snape was rather irritated with the cheeky man who dared to command him around just because he was a stupid auror, but Snape knew better than to show it. He should be glad that these stupid ministry men had not come there to arrest him. He would not push his luck.  
  
"Of course, sirs. . ." Snape said, standing up from the ground and grabbing his things. "Anything you want, Mr Auror, sir. . ."  
  
Snape, retreating, was already starting to feel relieved when. . .  
  
"Wait!" exclaimed the elder auror suddenly, coming after Snape. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before? Like some pictures. . . have you perhaps been in the newspaper lately?"  
  
'Oh God. . .' Snape thought, wondering why the hell he had refused to have Potter magically disguise his face. Being proud of your face was one thing, but being thrown into prison because you didn't want to disguise your face. . .  
  
"No, sir, I don't think so. . ." he answered, walking faster. The impolite auror was still following him, demanding to have another look at him. Snape knew that if the man had a closer look now, he'd probably recognise him as Severus Snape, the Azkaban fugitive. But the man didn't get that chance.  
  
Every single witch and wizard in the whole street clapped their hands over their ears quickly as the alarm system of Gringotts bank went off. Nobody had ever heard it before, and it was terribly loud. The people ran away in panic. A powerful dark wizard must have broken into Gringotts, the supposedly safest place in the world.  
  
Not a minute later, hundreds of aurors and goblins stormed into the bank.  
  
** +++ **  
  
Harry was getting nervous. He had just blown the whole wall of the damned high security vault apart, simply because he had not seen any easier way to get out. . . and because Snape seemed to have been in serious trouble with those two aurors.  
  
But as a consequence of his actions, Harry was now even more exhausted, and worst of all he had, naturally, set the alarm off. He had to be both very fast and very careful now.  
  
"Potter, do you hear me? What's happened?" Snape asked hurriedly.  
  
"I'm out. . . I've just blown the wall off."  
  
"That's not what I meant with 'Think up a way to get out.', you know. . ."  
  
"But it was the easiest way, and I wouldn't have come up with anything that would not set the alarm off anyway. . ."  
  
"Of course you wouldn't have, you're Harry Potter. . ." Snape sneered.  
  
Harry ignored it. "Listen, Snape. . . I want you to return to the Chamber."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Yes, now. You can't help me here anyway. I'll be with you soon." Harry said.  
  
"I hope you will." Snape replied and grabbed his portkey to the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't like the idea of leaving the younger wizard alone there with all those aurors after his head, but Potter was right. There was really nothing he could do now. A few seconds later, Severus Snape was back in the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to. . . know how their alarm system work, I suppose?" Harry asked, breathing fast. It was obvious that he was running.  
  
"No, I don't know anything about that. . . why, do you have anything special in mind?"  
  
"I'm running. . . towards them. I. . . hope they don't. . . know that."  
  
"Are you insane?" Snape exclaimed. "Potter, I don't think confronting them all at once now is such a good idea, even if you are extraordinarily powerful. . . and stupid. You can't escape all of them! Go hide somewhere. . ."  
  
"Then they will. . . find me earlier or later. I must get. . . out of here quickly. I will just. . ."  
  
So Harry explained in hasty gasps what he had in mind. Having heard all of it, Snape still found it stupid, risky and a very "typical thing for Potter to do", but he admitted that if everything worked as they expected it to - which would be coincidence - it might even work.  
  
Harry would run straight towards the entrance, straight towards the aurors and goblins. To be seen would of course be a very bad situation, but Harry didn't plan to. When they came too close to him, he would hide somewhere and just let them run past. It sounded a bit too easy, really. Then his pursuers would search for him near the ministry vault where they knew he had been in, and he would just run out of the front doors. They would of course not expect him to take the risk to run towards them, but rather away from them, so that was his one big advantage. Perhaps they would be stupid enough not to find him. But if he was seen. . . or if they guarded the only way out, which even the Ministry of Magic would have thought of. . . well, Harry would probably get caught and get into serious trouble.  
  
Harry kept running and running, fast. After what seemed like eternity, he heard quick footsteps approaching from the front. 'Okay, here we are.' He thought. Harry put a very strong invisibility charm on himself, which would take his pursuers a bit more than a magical eye or a little spell to look through. Also he used the whole-body quieting spell he had always found useful. Then he turned around a corner into one of the hundreds of little passages that lead to the thousands of vaults.  
  
And indeed a minute later the footsteps were all gone, leaving the wizard in silence. They had run past as he had hoped they would. "This was ridiculously easy." Harry Potter whispered to his partner in crime in the Chamber.  
  
"True. So don't expect it to be over yet." Snape answered.  
  
Back in the bigger passage, Harry saw that Snape was right. There were aurors standing everywhere with a distance of about a hundred metres between each other. But that would not hinder him much.  
  
Because of the spells on Harry Potter, these aurors didn't even blink as he jogged past. They didn't hear him walk, they didn't hear him breathe, and of course they didn't see any of him. The real problem was the front doors, though. There were so many aurors and several goblins as well that Harry Potter couldn't possibly slip out unnoticed.  
  
He walked a few metres back so that they wouldn't hear him as he whispered: "Can't get out, too many. I think. . . yes, I think I'll have a bit of action."  
  
Five aurors and two goblins fell when the invisible man cast his first stupefy charm. Many were thrown back at him. He dodged. He cast. They even used Unforgivables. These gits. It made him rather scared. He strengthened his shield, dodged and cast again. He was hit by several stunning spells, which didn't even get through his shield. An Imperius Curse did, though. It told him to stop attacking them, to take all spells off himself and to lie down flat on the floor. He almost laughed. He dodged several, and cast just as many. He was a fast dueller; they were many, though.  
  
In the end, they were all down, and Harry Potter made his way out into the Gringotts Hall, sick of the bank, the aurors, the goblins and the damned spells and curses they had thrown at him. All he wanted was sleep. He took both the invisibility charm and the quieting charm off, seeing no real danger anymore and being too tired to hold up unnecessary curses. Bursting the front doors open, Harry sprinted out onto the street. There was a small crowd of curious bystanders there, and they started to scream hysterically. They were all far too scared to do anything to him. Some ran away, others started to beg him not to kill them. Harry Potter was a famous murderer after all. . . well, he was famous, and he was supposed to be a murderer.  
  
"Just shut up, okay? I'm just gonna get out of here and have some sleep, nothing that concerns you in the least. Don't panic for nothing, you fools!" Harry exclaimed, irritated. Because of the noise, not many heard it.  
  
Then he took his portkey back to the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
One man however had heard every word that Harry Potter had said, and had written it all down. Also he had managed to take a photo of the man as he had run out, and he was the only person who had.  
  
The man couldn't believe his luck. Harry Potter of all people had just robbed the safest place of the world successfully, it seemed. Famous Harry Potter, who at the time was in everyone's mouth anyway. And as far as he knew, he was the only one who had taken a photo, or anyway, the only reporter at the scene.  
  
Then he entered the bank. He had to speak to some people, to interview, to write everything down, perhaps to change something every now and then to make the whole thing even more spectacular, sensational and entertaining.  
  
The man grinned happily.  
  
Tomorrow's paper would sell very well.  
  
+++ END CHAPTER +++  
  
+ + +  
  
Okay. . . there it is. I know it's late - again - so: sorry. I won't even make feeble attempts to explain it, just so much: I had a lot of stress where school and my numerous hobbies were involved. School won't be in the way anymore while I'm writing the next chapter, though, for six weeks of summer holidays are starting tomorrow - four of which I shall use to write more than usually, I promise (The other two weeks I'm on vacation - I can't write there at all for lack of a computer). But enough about the German school system.  
  
I hope you liked the chapter, anyway. A bit of action. . . though I actually prefer more angsty scenes. Though I have no idea if I'm any good at writing angst. . . but guess what? I will try. I have a hell lot of it planned, actually. . . but you'll see.  
  
Now, I think I'll go out for some inline-skating. See you (write to you) later (in less that 6 weeks this time, I think).  
  
OTTILCHEN 


	25. Chapter 24: Meetings

Chapter 24: Meetings  
  
Albus Dumbledore was still tired next morning, even though he had slept rather well last night. But the last days had been very hard. The ministry had somehow found out about Harry, who had had to escape. Aurors were still all over the school. Yesterday the lessons had started again, and the ministry had, finally, accepted that their security plan of keeping all students huddled together in the Great Hall was plainly stupid. But yet, many students were still scared, and so were their parents, whose curses, howlers and threats via owl were finally becoming less. Dumbledore wondered if any of the students blamed him for what had happened. He hoped not.  
  
He had also given a sort of statement to the press, who had of course been after the story of a 'cruel murderer endangering our children and the whole community' at once. They had found out about everything strangely fast as well. One of those damned ministry people must have told them, Dumbledore thought.  
  
The only good news that he had got was that Harry was apparently safe and that he had freed Severus from Azkaban. Dumbledore wondered what Harry was doing at the moment, and where he was. All Harry had written to him so far was that he was near, and that he would be 'preparing for upcoming confrontations'. There was no telling what exactly that meant, what Harry would really do.  
  
But Albus Dumbledore found out in more detail when an owl flew in and brought the Daily Prophet.  
  
Harry was on the front page again.  
  
There was a huge article about him, and a photo which showed Harry running out of Gringotts bank, a look of concentration on his face. The title of the article was 'Potter robs Gringotts'. Dumbledore read through the article, getting more and more amused. At the end he was laughing aloud. Harry had robbed the safest bank of the world. He had got in and somehow set the alarm off. Hundreds of aurors and goblins had come immediately. Strangely, though, they had not found Harry. He had shown himself at the entrance, duelled many aurors and goblins, stunned them all and just run out. His vault was empty. It was proven that Harry had also broken into a ministry vault, but the ministry did not miss anything from there, which Dumbledore found ridiculous. Harry must have taken something, or he wouldn't have gone in there. The ministry was probably just, as usually, too incompetent to notice. These fools.  
  
Dumbledore was happy that Harry didn't seem to spend his time wherever he was just hanging around. Apparently his friend was not only safe, but also had a lot of money with him, and if he acted a bit clever - and Dumbledore knew that Harry was pretty clever - he would live comfortably, too.  
  
The old man smiled. Harry was well, he shouldn't worry too much about a powerful wizard who had proven at a hundred occasions that he could take care of himself very well. Dumbledore decided that now, after the last stressful days, he would have himself a bit of fun. God knew he deserved it.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Sirius Black was not as happy. In fact, he was in an even worse mood than usually, which meant that nobody who came too near to him would have a good day, either.  
  
The Deputy Minister of Magic was sitting in the Great Hall, having breakfast. Dumbledore had set up an extra table for the Ministry officials who stayed in Hogwarts for security. The table was as big as two house- tables together, which many found ridiculous. But Black knew that the security was important, especially where Potter was concerned. They would once be thankful that they were there, the ministry, with him as the leader. There could never be too much security at Hogwarts. And that was why he, as well as several other important and some not so important ministry people had moved their offices to Hogwarts.  
  
So there he was sitting now, eating with his colleagues, reading the Daily Prophet and swearing about the damned press.  
  
Of course he had heard about Potter's little trip to Gringotts as soon as it had happened, which had been half a day ago. After all, he was practically the man in charge at the ministry. The whole thing about Potter robbing Gringotts was already embarrassing enough, since hundreds of aurors had been there, trying to capture the convict, and failing miserably. But now the press had to sell the story all over the world. How Potter had made fun of the ministry. Even many of the elder students were pointing at them now and grinning. God, he hated the press. And he hated Potter. . .  
  
As he was still thinking about the murderer that he'd once called godson, about that man who was toying around with them it seemed. . . the doors of the Great Hall burst open, and Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, entered the room. The furious looking man walked straight up to Sirius with quick steps. Immediately the Great Hall fell silent. Dumbledore showed anger very rarely, and not many had ever seen him looking so furious. Dumbledore stopped, standing directly in front of the Deputy Minister. Then he took the Daily Prophet out of one of the many pockets of his cloak. He slammed it onto the ministry table, front page up.  
  
Black, irritated and nervous at once, looked from Dumbledore to the paper, and back to Dumbledore.  
  
"Don't deny that you knew this as soon as it happened, Black!" Dumbledore said, dangerously calm.  
  
"Of course I knew." Black simply stated.  
  
"And you didn't think it necessary to inform me?!" Dumbledore exclaimed, perfectly aware that everybody was staring at him. "Potter is as much my problem as he is yours! I must read about his activities in the newspaper?! How can you expect me to keep Hogwarts safe while you don't even tell me what's going on?!"  
  
Black was getting seriously angry at the way Dumbledore was verbally trying to get the ministry down in public. "Well, what difference would it make, really?" he everything but yelled back. "It's not like you are organising the security here, more the opposite, in fact! You're still trying to get all aurors out of the school, you old fool, why we're the only people here that can keep everybody safe! If I didn't know better, Dumbledore, I'd think you didn't care at all about the well-being of these children. . ."  
  
The Deputy Minister nearly fell off his chair as his goblet exploded and pumpkin juice was spilled all over the table.  
  
"Who do you think you are, making such accusations against me?!" The headmaster roared, and many students shrank back in their chairs. "If you know me at all, Sirius Black, you know that my first priority is, has always been and will always be the safety of these my students! Do you honestly think you are any help here, you and all the other wannabe Dark Arts fighter? Open your eyes!!! Potter has powers beyond imagination, in case you haven't noticed. Do you think he will let you hold him up? You? The Ministry of Magic is incompetent and powerless in these days, Black. Plainly stupid. Ministry people are guarding Azkaban. It's the supposedly safest prison of the world. You even have dementors to help you, damn it! But Potter escaped. And you still haven't figured out how he did that. Then, when you had found out that he was here, you came with several of the 'best educated' aurors you have, as you told me yourself. Potter disapparated directly through the Anti-Apparation barrier, after having put out your men easily, I might add. Yesterday, at bright daylight, Potter robbed the supposedly safest bank of the world. Hundreds - hundreds, Black! - of your so very wonderful aurors were there. Potter just walked out of the door! Don't you see that your men are completely useless? Potter has always found a way out of your little traps, and he always will. That man has incredible powers and he is not stupid either. The Ministry of Magic will certainly not stop him from getting what he wants. Accept it, Black. If Potter decides to take over Hogwarts, he will do so without much effort, no matter if you're here or in Timbuktu. Your presence here doesn't make any difference to him! Do you really think that you have the power to hold him up, after everything that he's done already?"  
  
Black didn't answer. There was stunned silence in the whole Great Hall. Everybody just stared at Dumbledore.  
  
"I thought so." The old wizard said, calmer again. "And the next time you get any such information about Potter, you better tell me immediately, or else I swear that I will throw you out. And I do have the power to do that. You don't want me to be your enemy, Sirius Black, believe me you don't. I advise you to watch what you're doing. You are not in a position to give commands as long as you're here. But I am. Because this is my castle. And nobody, least of all the ministry, can take it from me."  
  
Without another word, Dumbledore walked away and sat down at the staff table, starting a conversation about how outrageously expensive butterbeer had become in the Three Broomsticks.  
  
Soon everybody started talking again. . . yet most talked about what Dumbledore had just said.  
  
Was the Ministry of Magic really as incompetent as Dumbledore had said?  
  
Up at the staff table, Minerva McGonagall smiled up at the headmaster.  
  
"Have I ever told you that you have a very strange way of having fun, Albus?" she whispered.  
  
Dumbledore smiled back.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
When Harry walked into the large living room that he shared with Snape, the elder wizard was already there. He was casting all kinds of pointless charms and curses with his wand, not noticing Harry. Snape had been playing duel a lot since he had got his wand back yesterday morning - only, of course, when he thought that Harry was not paying attention to what he was doing. The man cast, dodged the non existing responses of an enemy, fired a spell again and quickly put up a shield again.  
  
Harry smiled. "You must be a fast dueller." he said.  
  
Snape flinched and quickly turned around. Harry found it amusing that he looked a bit embarrassed at being seen doing something as pointless and un- Snape-ish as duelling the air.  
  
"You must. . . excuse this, Potter. . . it's just that I haven't been doing any magic in years, and, well. . ."  
  
Harry grinned. It must have been the first time that he saw Snape really not knowing how to explain his own actions.  
  
"I understand, Snape. It does feel great to be able to do some magic after years of not touching a wand, doesn't it? I mean, I've been able to do about everything I wanted wandlessly, but even I feel like playing around with my precious wand all day. It's just a better feeling."  
  
Not knowing how to respond, Snape hesitantly nodded. "I'm hungry. Shall we get going now?"  
  
"Going where?"  
  
"Well. . . I don't feel like eating warmed up Hogwarts food that is almost a week old again. I thought we could connect breakfast to our little shopping trip today and have some proper food from a restaurant for a change. . . of course we could also go to a pub or a fast food place or something, if you want to. . ." Snape quickly added.  
  
"You mean because of the money? No, Snape, I think a restaurant is just fine. There won't be much of a difference, seeing how much money we're going to spend today anyway. And I find that we really deserve it. Anyway, I think that it's a very good idea. Do you know any good place to eat?" Harry asked.  
  
"In the Muggle world? No, Potter, I don't. You are the Muggle expert here, not me."  
  
"Well. . . I'm sure we'll find something. Let's get the preparations down then, okay?"  
  
Snape snorted. "As many as last time, with portkeys and everything?"  
  
"No. . . no, I don't think that's necessary. After all, we're only going shopping, not robbing a bank or something. . ."  
  
Half an hour later, Harry Potter and Severus Snape, two fugitives from the Ministry of Magic, were sitting in a little restaurant in London. Even if there had been anybody near who knew them, they would not have been recognised because the only thing in their faces which they had not disguised was the colour of their eyes. The breakfast was really delicious, and they enjoyed it, going over their shopping list. They would buy the furniture for Snape's rooms, for the rooms that belonged to them both, and some duelling equipment, books, and, more for Snape than for Harry, everything that should be in a proper potions lab.  
  
He would make sure that day would be fun, Harry decided.  
  
** +++ **  
  
The Gryffindor Quidditch team had come together in the Gryffindor common room to discuss how to organise things.  
  
Their coach had turned out to be a fugitive murderer, and he had run away. Now they were on their own.  
  
"I suggest we keep doing what we always did, we train twice a week, perhaps some longer than usually when a match approaches. . ." Martin said. "That's what Evans. . . Potter, I mean, did. We might miss his tips and commands and everything, but we'll still keep getting better, and we did improve a lot since he. . ."  
  
"We're not doing ANYTHING he did with us!!!" someone argued. "That man's a murderer!!!"  
  
Many agreed.  
  
"But we must use what he taught us, or we'll lose everything again. . ." Leon tried.  
  
The trio had tried to talk the rest of the team into training and acting like Potter had told them to, but apparently they were the only ones who realised that this was the only way of winning. Their trainer had turned out to be evil, but that didn't mean that there was anything wrong with the sport, did it? They couldn't stop using their newly archived strategies now, could they? They'd lose everything that they had just gained. . .  
  
"I'm not using anything that a Dark Wizard taught me!"  
  
Ronny was getting frustrated. "Of course we will! We have a real chance of getting the Quidditch cup, damn it! Gryffindor is proud of its Quidditch team for the first time in years! We have no right to throw that away! Now, because I am the official captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I decide that we will practice at least. . ."  
  
"Shut up, Longbottom!"  
  
"Since when do I let a stupid little fourth year make my decisions?!"  
  
"You have nothing to say here!"  
  
Ronny was now getting seriously angry, and his famous temper, which neither of his parents had ever had, was showing. "I HAVE EVERYTHING TO SAY HERE, I'M THE BLOODY CAPTAIN!!!" the boy yelled.  
  
The whole room stared at him.  
  
"Anyone who wishes to be a member of the team will have to practice with me, once a week at least!" the captain said, seemingly calm again, but with fiery eyes.  
  
There was silence for a while.  
  
"Well, goodbye then." Said a sixth year and stood up in order to go.  
  
"Hey. . . I don't think it's wise to make such rash decisions about something as important as the Quidditch team, do you? Why don't we sit down and think all of this over together?" suggested a new voice. It was Professor Granger, smiling.  
  
Nobody had heard her come in.  
  
There was silence for a moment, then the first people started to try to get the popular teacher onto their side.  
  
"Professor, surely you don't want us to do what that MURDERER wanted. . ."  
  
"Professor, he was dangerous. . ."  
  
Ronny interrupted. "Professor, I don't want to give up Quidditch because. . ."  
  
Hermione Granger silenced them all.  
  
"Do you want to know what I think about your problem?" she asked.  
  
They nodded.  
  
"Well. . . everybody knows that Harry Potter is a cruel murderer, that he is very dangerous, very dark, and very evil. That he has no conscience." Hermione said. It was painful to tell these lies, but there would be no use telling these children that her friend was innocent.  
  
"YEAH!" many agreed. Ronny, Leon and Martin were both disappointed and angry, having expected their professor to be more sensible than that.  
  
"But. . .!" Granger interrupted. "I'm not done yet. I also think that Harry Potter is one of the best Quidditch players of the world, and that he was probably the best trainer you could have got."  
  
There was much protest; only the trio was grinning, satisfied.  
  
"And what he taught you about playing Quidditch had absolutely nothing to do with the crimes he committed. Can't you see that?" she said.  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Will you keep playing Quidditch?" Granger asked. "The Gryffindors are proud of you, you know. So am I. But that doesn't matter. It's your choice. What I do find very important, though, is that you don't let Potter control your life. Play Quidditch if that's fun to you, don't if it's not. But make that decision yourself, and don't let Potter influence you."  
  
There was silence again.  
  
"We have no trainer. . ." someone quietly said.  
  
"So? We don't necessarily need one." Martin replied. "We'll manage without. We can train on our own, we can organise things on our own. We can even look up new tactics in some books. All he did, really, was give us some tips and some cheer up talks. We can live without that. We will win."  
  
Hermione Granger smiled. "Yes. . . I completely agree with you, Mr Whitby. I can do a bit of Quidditch research for you, I'm kind of good at that. You'll manage the rest yourself. And if you need another reason to keep playing. . . I don't think that the Slytherins will like to lose to you in the Quidditch final. And they certainly need a good ass kicking, don't you agree?"  
  
The kids cheered. Of course they agreed.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry Potter and Severus Snape were walking through a big furniture shop. It felt strange for both, being in public. They were, after all, convicts on the run. But since they were disguised and in the Muggle world, the risk of being recognised was fairly small.  
  
"Hey. . . how about this comfortable large oak bed?" Harry suggested, having thrown himself onto the soft mattress.  
  
Snape sneered. "Pot. . . Evans, the people are staring at us."  
  
"So? It's not like any of them knows us. . ."  
  
Snape sighed. If he had known that the Potter boy had such a silly streak about him, he would have thought twice about letting himself be rescued from Azkaban, really.  
  
"Anyway, have you had a look at the price? This bed you're just spreading yourself out on is as expensive as it looks. . ."  
  
"And as cozy. Really, you should have a closer look. Don't you like it?"  
  
Snape thought for a moment. "Are you willing to pay for it?"  
  
"I asked first. Do you like it?"  
  
"Will you pay for it, Evans, or not?"  
  
Harry grinned. "I will pay for it. . . if you test it first. I must make sure it's really the right one for you, you must understand. . . valuable money."  
  
Snape snorted. "You can't be serious."  
  
"Oh, come on. . . one jump and you're in. It is large enough for both of us."  
  
Snape thought about it. He really did like that bed. . . and it was the last of it's sort that wasn't sold already. And if Potter would buy it for him. . . but throw himself in there? In public? Would be completely against his image. . . but in that Muggle shop, nobody knew about him, or his image. . .  
  
He hadn't noticed Potter climb out and sneak up on him from behind. . .  
  
Severus Snape let out a small scream as the younger boy suddenly lifted him up from the ground and sent him flying into the bed.  
  
The Muggles stared and pointed at them, laughing or muttering about being drunk at bright daylight.  
  
Snape couldn't remember ever having been so embarrassed. He glared at Potter, who was laughing. That damned brat with his stupid wand-less magic which he used anywhere for anything. . .  
  
"So, do you agree with me?" Potter asked innocently, still grinning like mad.  
  
"Agree about what?" Snape snapped.  
  
Harry walked up to the bed again, and a second later he was lying in there, next to Snape.  
  
"Do you agree that this bed is as comfortable as it looks?"  
  
The elder wizard did.  
  
"Yes. . . yes, indeed I do agree with you on that. And you know what? I've just decided that you will buy it for me, my friend, since you owe that and much more to me for the scene you just caused."  
  
Harry smiled. "Okay."  
  
Snape nodded, satisfied. "Ah, and. . . Evans?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Harry yelped as he was pushed off the comfortable mattress and landed painfully on the floor.  
  
"Don't ever dare to move your arse onto my bed again, or you will regret it."  
  
"I see." Harry said. There was a moment of silence. Then Harry burst into laugher. Several Muggles laughed along, and even Snape was smiling amused.  
  
Harry wondered if the man in the bed realised that he had just called his old student 'my friend'.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Cornelius Fudge was sitting in the armchair in his private library in his manor, reading a romance novel. He had taken a break after having been answering important letters, collecting information and wondering what the hell he could do to catch Harry Potter, so that things wouldn't get out of hand.  
  
Yes, he had been working a lot. Contrary to what people thought, Fudge wasn't an old man who had given up all power when things had grown over his head. Oh no. In fact, things had never grown over his head, and he was still the man with the real power as well. Sirius Black was just one of his puppets.  
  
Nobody was aware of the men who were still working for him in secret. The men who took his command over that from Sirius Black. The men who knew what was really going on out there, what not everybody knew.  
  
Cornelius Fudge knew everything. Even, he thought, more than Dumbledore. Fudge knew that Dumbledore was not aware of what he was doing, and that Dumbledore did not know what his men had managed to hold secret. Secret do everybody. Yes, Cornelius Fudge was still the man with the power.  
  
The official part of the Ministry of Magic, of course, knew nothing. The aurors knew nothing. Sirius Black, his most important pawn, had been easy to manipulate after what had happened with Potter. Black was the person who ran the whole Ministry while the real Minister had better things to do. But Black, too, knew nothing. . . well, he did know one thing. . . one rather important thing, in fact. . . but that didn't matter, since Black didn't want to know anything, so he repressed it. Yes, Black was a practical tool.  
  
The head of a man suddenly appeared in the fireplace. One of Fudge's men, of course.  
  
"Good morning, Sir. . ."  
  
"Get down to business. I have a lot to do." Fudge snapped.  
  
"Of course, Sir. It is nothing extraordinary, really. . . just Deatheaters attacking a Muggle family again. I suppose we shall proceed as usual, hiding the whole thing. . ."  
  
"You shall not." Fudge stated.  
  
That brought the other man abruptly out of his concept. "Er. . . excuse me, sir, but we have always. . ."  
  
"But not this time." Fudge said. Suddenly he grinned. It looked very odd. "The situation is completely different now."  
  
"But we can't. . . if we tell them that Voldemort. . . that would be suicide, sir. . . I don't understand why you suddenly want. . ."  
  
"Yes, indeed you do not understand. Let me tell you what we will do. There is, as always, the Dark Mark above the house, I suppose?"  
  
"Yes. . . there is, sir. As always. . ."  
  
"Good. You will make it invisible, as always. Then there are the bodies. You will not touch them, or anything in the house, understood? Also, you will not hide the magic that was used in the house."  
  
"But sir, people will. . ."  
  
"Don't interrupt me! You will not change anything there. We will leave everything exactly the way it is, except for the Mark. And then. . . then we will let the aurors find the scene. And you know what? I think. . . I think that the murderer will have left a letter somewhere in the house. . . perhaps on one of the bodies?"  
  
The head in the fireplace was now even more confused, wondering if his boss, the Minister of Magic, had drunk anything. "Sir, there was no letter or anything alike. . ."  
  
"Oh, but of course there was. You will make sure that there was. The murderer will have left a letter, in which he openly admits how he cruelly killed innocent Muggles. And while you're at it. . . you could as well add some psychological chitchat to that letter, explaining how he hates everyone, how he wants revenge. . . that would make everything more convincing. . . and a lot more dramatic."  
  
The man was beginning to understand. But who would they frame. . .  
  
Fudge showed his odd grin again. "Yes, yes. . . he'll leave a letter again. For the Ministry to find, for the press to publish, for the whole magical community to read; like he did in Gringotts. Yes, Harry Potter likes to leave letters."  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Even though it was a very sunny day, to Harry Potter Knockturn Alley seemed to be a very dark place.  
  
Snape and he had bought everything they needed from the Muggle world. It had cost Harry quite a lot of money, and Snape had been a bit uncomfortable because of the fact that Harry Potter had paid for every very thing he now owned, even though Harry had confirmed several times that it was no problem at all, that he didn't mind paying for it.  
  
Harry was sure that once everything they had just bought was put into place, both his and Snape's rooms would be perfectly comfortable and properly equipped.  
  
Harry had been glad when they had finally left the Muggle world and entered Diagon Alley, not only because he liked the street with all its shops and the people there, but because he had started to run out of Muggle money. He wondered if there was any place in Knockturn Alley where he could change some of his money into Muggle money, because he really didn't want to bring some of his money back to the bank he had just stolen it from. Surely someone would get suspicious. These goblins might not be very fast duellers, but Harry knew that they were not stupid, and that they knew everything about their special field, money. He would not risk it.  
  
Harry was ripped out of his thoughts when Snape spoke to him.  
  
"Hadn't you mentioned that you wanted to have a look at that shop?" Snape asked.  
  
Harry stopped and realised that they had just walked past a shop full of Dark Arts books.  
  
"Oh. . . of course. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. . . do you want to come along?" Harry asked.  
  
Snape frowned. "Yes. . . yes, why not. I haven't been in here in a while. There might be something interesting."  
  
So they went in.  
  
"May I help you?" asked a creepy looking man from behind the counter.  
  
"Actually, you may." said Snape. Soon he had the man showing him around some shelves that had only books about the most dangerous, dark and cruel potions in them. For the Potions Master, it was very fascinating.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry Potter strolled around books about duelling, spells and curses, transfigurations, and anything that didn't require a cauldron. Harry didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he saw lots of interesting books. He was already carrying eight books in his arms; when he came to the end of a long row of shelves. He'd already started to turn back and have another look at all these books, when something caught his eye and made him frown.  
  
There was a little table standing next to the shelves. On that table lay a book. Only one single book. It looked very different from the other books Harry had seen in the shop so far.  
  
The book was bright red, and there was a golden griffin on its cover. The Gryffindor Symbol, in Gryffindor colours. The book did not look the least dark, but it looked very powerful, and it seemed to draw Harry to it.  
  
Harry picked the book up from the table and stared at it. The griffin started to move, walking around on the cover. Then it quietly roared.  
  
Instead of being frightened, Harry felt a strange warmth in him, just like he did when he first held his wand. It felt right to hold this book. It felt like it belonged to him, and had always belonged to him.  
  
Harry opened the book. There was nothing written in there. Harry smiled, transfixed. This mysterious book seemed to hold many secrets.  
  
Harry laid the book onto the pile of the other books he had picked out, and with all these books under his arm, he went to the counter, where Snape was already waiting with a pile of books in his hands that was as large as Harry's.  
  
Snape walked up to him. "If you. . . if you think that these books are too many, boy, it would be no problem to put a few of them back. . ." he said uncomfortably.  
  
Harry smiled. "God, when will you finally quit worrying about the money? These books might be important for the future, you know. I want you to keep them."  
  
They walked back to the counter and put their books onto it. The shop's owner looked through them, writing down prices on a piece of parchment with a pencil. When the man finally noticed the Gryffindor coloured book lying there, he frowned.  
  
"Are you. . . are you sure you want to buy this book, sir?" he asked.  
  
"Yes." Harry said, a bit confused. What was so strange about him wanting to buy this book?  
  
"And you do not mind. . ."  
  
"What?" Harry urged.  
  
"Nothing, sir." The man said hurriedly.  
  
"I do not mind what?" Harry implied, irritated. It was clear that he would make the man tell him what was wrong with the book.  
  
"Sir. . . you have probably not tried yet, but. . . this book is useless sir. There is no way of opening it. We have tried several spells, the most powerful spells there are, sir. . . but nothing worked."  
  
Harry blinked. But he had just. . .  
  
"Excuse me. . . did you just say that there is no way of opening this book?"  
  
"Exactly, sir. We have tried everything. We even tried to cut it open with a knife; we thought that its magic might be destroyed by that, so that the book could be read, but the book didn't even get a scratch from the knife." The man said. "Well then. . . I think I will be bringing it back. . ."  
  
"You won't." Harry said.  
  
Both the man and Snape looked at him strangely.  
  
"Excuse me?" the shop's owner said.  
  
"I just told you that you will not be bringing this book back to the table it's been lying on." Harry repeated. "I already told you, I am buying it."  
  
There was silence.  
  
"You are?" the man asked again.  
  
Harry sighed. "YES!" he said for the first time. "Unless, of course, the price is too high. . ."  
  
"No, of course not!" the shop's owner exclaimed, happy that, finally, somebody was stupid enough to buy this useless book. "I will make you a good price, sir." He promised. And he did.  
  
A while later, Snape and Harry had left the shop.  
  
"And now, would you please tell me what you are playing at?" Snape sneered. "I do not mean to interfere with your personal matters, but do you honestly think it wise to spend your money on books which you cannot even open?"  
  
Harry did not feel insulted; instead, he smiled. "The thing is. . . I can open it."  
  
Snape froze. "You can?"  
  
"Yes." Harry said.  
  
"You can really open this damned thing?"  
  
"Yes, man, I can really open this damned thing." Harry said. "I seem to be repeating myself fairly often today, ain't I?"  
  
"Sorry." Snape muttered, a little embarrassed. Normally he was the one making people aware of how silly they were acting. "I'm just a bit surprised by this."  
  
Harry nodded. "So was I."  
  
They walked in silence for a moment.  
  
"What's written in there?" Snape finally asked.  
  
"Nothing." Harry replied.  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
Harry sighed again.  
  
Snape actually smiled. "Sorry. . . I promise I will try not to repeat you anymore."  
  
"Good." Harry said, amused, too. "And I promise I will try not to tell you any so surprising things anymore."  
  
No more word was spoken until they entered a shop with dangerous and illegal potions ingredients.  
  
Snape smirked, looking around and imagining what he could do with all these things.  
  
"I fear, Mr Evans, that this will get fairly expensive for you."  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Remus Lupin quickly walked through Knockturn Alley, carrying a bottle of Wolfsbane Potion in a bag. Finally, after years of searching, he had found a man who was able to brew it. He did it for damned much money, but for Remus, it was worth it. He would have paid even more to get the potion, for he just hated those few hours in a month in which he had absolutely no control of himself. This would end now.  
  
It was the first time Remus Lupin had bought the potion from that man, and the look on his face told anyone who saw it that this man was not used to Knockturn Alley and that he felt absolutely uncomfortable there. And Remus was nervous. He knew that there were lots of dangerous Dark Wizards lurking around. And he wanted to get out of that damned street and back into Diagon Alley as soon as possible, so he walked very fast, almost jogging.  
  
And this, next to his light, neat clothing, drew even more attention onto him in the dark street. This was his mistake.  
  
Remus was almost out of the street when he felt the bag with his potion being roughly ripped out of his hand. Slowly, he turned around. There were two men standing behind him, dirty and in a bad shape, but grinning. They looked about thirty-five years old, and from the expressions on their faces, they did not seem very intelligent.  
  
Both were small and rather fat, and the fatter one was holding his bag.  
  
One man grunted. "Now look who we have here. Remember this one, Goyle? Lupin is your name, isn't it? You were our DADA teacher once."  
  
Goyle nodded. "Yeah, that's really him. What's wrong, Lupin? Got lost? Because you don't seem the type of person to spend your time here, you know. You're one of those decent men. Some respectable ministry worker, aren't you?"  
  
Remus offered a false smile. He remembered those two. Crabbe and Goyle. Perfect. Exactly who he had not wanted to meet. "Yes. . . nice to meet you two. We haven't seen each other in a long while, have we? But I'm very sorry I cannot talk now, I really do need to go. So would you kindly give me my. . . bag. . ."  
  
Crabbe snorted. "Nah. . . who knows what you are keeping in there. Might be interesting for us." He pulled the bottle out of the bag and had a close look at the liquid. Then he gave it to Goyle. "That's a potion, I think." He muttered. Goyle looked at it, too, for a while. "Yes, you're right. It is obvious, really. This is a potion." Crabbe nodded. "Yes. And a potion is always useful."  
  
Remus swallowed. He needed his potion back, and he needed to go out of that darn alley. But he know it was no use using magic against Crabbe and Goyle. They were in the middle of a street, and if you attacked one Dark Wizard here, ten would attack you. And though he knew he could out-duel Crabbe and Goyle easily, he didn't like the idea of having to fight off lots of Dark Wizards at once.  
  
"Yes. . . you're right, men. This is a potion. But I fear it will do you no good, because. . ."  
  
"It will do us no good?" Goyle snorted. "What, you think you are better than us, don't you?"  
  
"N. . . no!" Remus quickly said. "It's just. . . this is a Wolfsbane Potion, and since neither of you is a werewolf. . . you could as well give it back to me."  
  
Crabbe grinned foolishly. "A Wolfsbane Potion, huh? But that is good. . . that is very good. You see, they bring a lot of money if you sell them. . ."  
  
Remus swallowed. This did not look good. "But you see, Mr Crabbe, this potion belongs to me. I have just bought it, it is mine. So, would you please give it back to me now. . ." he made a last try.  
  
This time it was Goyle who grinned. "Or else?" he said threateningly.  
  
Remus' shoulders slumped. The money was lost; he would spend the next full moon in the small cellar of his house. But he would definitely go now, seeing that he was starting to get himself into danger, and not only his potion.  
  
"Or else, Crabbe, you will have to pay for it. And not only in money." said a new voice from the side. Crabbe, Goyle and Lupin turned around. There were two men lazily leaning against the wall of a shop, having watched the whole conversation, it seemed. One looked about as old as Remus, the other one as old as Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
The younger one of the two, Harry Potter, took a step forward. "Now, you two gorillas, I will be so nice as to leave you a choice. Either give the potion to me, or give it to Lupin over there."  
  
Goyle snorted unimpressed. "Why would I. Who are you to threaten me, anyway?"  
  
"A rather powerful wizard." Harry replied. "And if you refuse to give back what is not yours, I fear that I will have to take it from you with force."  
  
Immediately, the two gorillas balled their fists and raised their arms, ready to launch at him. "You just try. We'll show you." said Goyle.  
  
Harry smirked and pointed his wand at the bag. "Accio." he said lazily. A second later, he held the bag in his hand.  
  
The dumbfounded faces of Crabbe and Goyle made Snape sneer. "You might want to put into consideration to have a look at your old schoolbooks again, Misters Crabbe and Goyle, if you are not familiar with the effects of this charm anymore. It is usually taught in fourth year, and it can come in handy in some. . . situations."  
  
Wordlessly, Harry handed the potion back to Remus Lupin, who just stared at Snape and him. "Let's go, okay? These are not the kind of people I like to hang around." Snape nodded, and the two of them retreated. Lupin followed, leaving not much space between the two and himself. He did not want to be alone with these stupid apes again.  
  
"Stop right where you are!" one of the apes called. They were running after them.  
  
Quickly, Harry spun around and hit them both with only one stunning spell from his wand. They fell at once.  
  
It took less than five seconds for all people near to point their wands at Harry and Snape. Remus Lupin swallowed. Now these two guys were in trouble because of him. . .  
  
Harry was getting rather irritated with the people around him.  
  
"Look, I'm not searching for trouble here, okay?" he announced angrily. "I had a rather stressful day, and I'd appreciate if you just let me go home now, okay? Or else I swear you'll get something worse from me than a simple Stupefy!"  
  
For a moment he was stared at again, then people lowered their wands  
  
"Thank you." Harry muttered.  
  
Snape shook his head in amusement. "You really are a strange person, do you know that?" he muttered. Harry smiled, and the two of them walked off.  
  
Remus Lupin walked after them out of the street, and into Diagon Alley. Until he was back home, his thoughts did not leave those two odd strangers who had just saved his potion.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger - the only three people in Hogwarts who didn't think that Harry Potter was a cruel murderer - were sitting in the headmaster's office that afternoon, having tea and chatting about mainly unimportant things. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. They were not expecting anyone.  
  
"Come in!" Dumbledore called. He was surprised when it was Sirius Black who entered. From the expression on his face, the Deputy Minister was in a very bad mood once again.  
  
"The leader of our current 'Castle security troop'!" the headmaster greeted coldly, in a tone he would not greet many people in. But he really was angry at Black at the moment. "What can I do for you?"  
  
Sirius Black smirked. "Actually, headmaster, I came here to do something for you."  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And that would be what, exactly?"  
  
"I have just received some news about Potter, and remembering the way you reacted when that. . . person. . . 'visited' Gringotts, I thought that you might want to know about it soon."  
  
Albus blinked, wondering what his friend had done to attract the ministry's attention.  
  
"And what information do you have?" Hermione asked.  
  
"It seems" Black said, throwing a pack of photos down onto the desk, "that your dearest Boy-who-lived has killed a family of four Muggles. And don't say that it wasn't him. We have four bodies, traces of a hell lot of dark magic. . . and guess what, that bastard even left us a letter to find. On the body of the youngest child."  
  
The three teachers had paled.  
  
Minerva was had started to look through the photos which the ministry had made of the scene, but had stopped that shortly afterwards because she was getting sick.  
  
Albus had lost the twinkle in his eyes. He stared at his desk gravely. Harry really had so many problems one could laugh at it if it weren't so serious.  
  
Hermione was glaring at Sirius Black, furious. "Oh, and you are sure that it was him, aren't you?" she yelled. "Harry could never do such a thing! He's your godson, Sirius! Didn't it ever occur to you that maybe he was framed? What the hell made you so blind, Sirius! You know Harry! He was the one to save you from the Dementor's Kiss in his third year! It was him who managed to get you back from behind that veil in the Department of Mysteries when everybody else believed you dead!!! You know he would rather die than murder someone! He trusted you, Sirius! Why the hell didn't you trust him?!"  
  
"Shut up!" Black yelled back, shaking. "It's not like I never used to trust him. Of course I trusted him. Everyone did. And you know what?" he yelled, unaware that he was about to tell these people he considered enemies more about his feelings than he had ever told anyone after the murder of the three Weasleys. "You know what? I loved him like a son! And he? What did he do? He betrayed me in every way possible! HE BETRAYED ALL OF US!!! The whole damned wizarding world!"  
  
There was silence for a minute, in which all four of them calmed down again. Then Albus Dumbledore summoned a chair. "Sit." he offered. Sirius Black did.  
  
"So you really believe that Harry Potter murdered his best friend and his best friend's parents, Sirius?" Albus slowly said. "Why do you think that he did it?"  
  
Sirius Black answered just as calmly. "Because of the obvious proofs we have, Albus."  
  
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Proofs, Sirius? I have never seen any proofs."  
  
Sirius sneered. "Of course the ministry cannot lay such things open for public to see. . ."  
  
"Have you seen them?" Albus asked.  
  
"The Minister himself has seen these proofs, as he has assured me." Sirius answered.  
  
"So you haven't seen them." Albus stated. "Maybe Fudge hasn't seen them either, Sirius. Maybe Fudge has lied to you, and there are no proofs."  
  
"That's ridiculous!" Sirius snorted. "Why would he do that?"  
  
"Because of the power." Hermione said. "It is very logical, really. Let's say that Deatheaters killed the Weasleys, because they were some of the greatest fighters against the Dark Lord, especially Ron in the Order of the Phoenix, and Arthur with his position in the Ministry of Magic. Of course Fudge wouldn't want to admit that it was Deatheaters who killed them, simply because that fool refuses to believe that the Dark Lord is back. So he takes Harry and accuses him, just because he was there when it happened. People still trust him, and still think that there's nothing wrong in the world; that there are no Deatheaters. Fudge is still Minister - that's all he wants and that's why he did it, Sirius. That's why he framed Harry."  
  
There was a moment of silence again. Then Sirius said: "That's a silly theory you have there, Hermione. Fudge would never throw an innocent man into prison just because he wants power. To me, that's anything but logical. Potter's motive of lying is far more logical: He wants to save his neck."  
  
Albus sighed. "It was the word of Harry Potter against the word of Cornelius Fudge, Sirius. You did not see any proofs; you just heard what they said. And I have made very bad experiences with Fudge. You know him, Sirius. You know he would do anything for the ministry. Do you really think it wise to make such important decisions on Fudge's word?"  
  
Sirius glared at him. "Cornelius Fudge" he said, "is a respectable man and not a liar. He has helped me up when I was down; when Potter crushed me down. He has been my only real friend ever since. He has trusted me with a very important position. And it is not the Ministry of Magic he would do everything for, it is the magical community that he works so hard for. One could think you should be grateful. And yes, Dumbledore, I do trust his word. I do trust him more than I trust anyone else."  
  
Without another word, Sirius Black stood up from his chair and left the headmaster's office.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
The next morning.  
  
Harry stared at the scarlet book with the Gryffindor Lion which he had bought only a few hours ago, wondering what to do with it.  
  
He was standing in a room which Snape and he had decided to make their own little library. Not that it was little at all. In there, there were all Harry's 'normal' books which he had kept in his rooms and his office at his time as Hogwarts DADA teacher, but there were also his fairly dangerous Dark Arts books, which alone were several hundreds. Now, Harry was trying to sort the new books they had just bought in Knockturn Alley into the shelves. His own books were easy to sort, depending on the subject, like spells, transfigurations, curses, and of course duelling. Every single one of the books that Snape had bought was about potions, and Harry found that he only possessed very few potions books, which were all about healing so that he had put them into the healing-section of the library. Finally, he decided to make a whole new potions-section, into which he put all of Snape's potions books, and his few ones. That had solved the problem.  
  
Now, the only book not sorted yet was the mysterious Gryffindor-book. Harry thought about just putting it onto his bedside table instead of sorting it into one of these shelves at all. He was planning on having a very close look at it very soon anyway. . .  
  
"Oh. . . I see that you're done here?" asked Snape's voice from behind him. Harry jumped and turned around.  
  
"I didn't mean startle you." Snape said.  
  
Harry smiled. "No problem. . . I just didn't hear you coming. You're good at sneaking up on people, you know."  
  
"One of many Slytherin talents."  
  
Harry nodded. "Yes, I guess so. Anyway. . . is there any special reason for your coming? I thought you wanted to build up your new potions lab. . . and I figured that would take a while."  
  
"Of course it does." replied Snape. "And I'm by far not done yet. But. . . you know how we took out a subscription to the Daily Prophet yesterday, so that it could just be summoned every morning? Via owl-less delivery?"  
  
"Yes, of course. Why?"  
  
"Well. . . I just summoned our first Daily Prophet. You will probably want to have a look at it." Snape handed Harry the paper.  
  
There was a big picture of Harry on the front page, and several other photos of a totally messed up Muggle house. . . and there were four bodies in those photos. A young man, a young woman and two children. Bodies - of four dead Muggles.  
  
The title screamed:  
  
Harry Potter terrorises Muggle World  
  
Harry read through the article, fury and despair rising in him. It said that he had killed four Muggles, cruelly murdered them with a couple of strong dark curses. It said that he was a ruthless killer, a danger to society, a monster that belonged locked behind bars or killed.  
  
It also showed a letter in his handwriting which Harry had supposedly written. The writer of that letter had admitted to having killed the Muggles, had said that he wanted revenge on the whole wizarding world, that he would not rest until 'you all got what you deserve'.  
  
And had signed with 'Harry Potter'.  
  
For a while, Harry just stared at the newspaper, then stared at the wall. Then he smashed the stupid paper onto the ground with full force.  
  
"Don't let that get you down, Potter." said Snape quietly.  
  
Harry looked into the elder's eyes with a fiery gaze. "It's just so. . . so damned unfair!" he yelled. "I've been fighting evil all my life, Snape, for them, for their safety, never expecting anything in return! And now they start to fight me! As if there weren't enough problems in my life already! Now they claim me to be the enemy! GOD, I HATE THEM ALL!!!"  
  
Harry was shaking with fury.  
  
Snape, alarmed, carefully laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You don't mean that, Potter." he said quietly. "You don't hate them all. You don't even blame them all for what was done to you. You have gone through hell, and you are not crushed or bitter. That makes you a very strong character, you know."  
  
Harry said nothing, but relaxed slightly.  
  
"And it's not all of them, Potter. Not every witch and wizard in this world is your enemy. They were just manipulated, by the ministry. The ministry is the only thing that causes this, and it's the ministry you can despise. But you know what? Don't. Show that you're stronger than that. Don't let them get you down, Potter. I am sure that there will come a time when you will face the world again when they know that you are innocent. And then you can look them into the eyes and say that you were always stronger than them, that they could do nothing to get you down. And then you can watch their faces when they realise what they have done."  
  
Harry breathed in and out slowly, looking at Snape - a man he had loathed as a child, and who he was beginning to consider a true friend now.  
  
"Thank you." he whispered and smiled. "You are right, you know. I will be strong, I will not let them get me down, I will not get bitter or anything. And I will get my innocence proven. I will show them who I really am."  
  
** +++++ **  
  
END CHAPTER  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Author's Note:  
  
So. . . there it is. And it took me a hell lot of time again. Okay. . . I was on vacation for two weeks, but I must say that I'm a little out of it at the time. But don't worry - that's happened before and then I see or read something to inspire me again.  
  
How did you like this chapter, anyway? I think it explained some things that you've been worrying about, like why Sirius acts the way he does. And did you expect that Fudge is, in fact, a man far more competent and powerful that he is estimated? Ha ha ha. . . that was fun to write. You'll hear more of what he's really doing later.  
  
And now, review and make my day, please!!!  
  
OTTILCHEN 


	26. Chapter 25: Friendships starting, ending...

Chapter 25: Friendships starting, ending and a terrible order  
  
A few weeks later. . .  
  
The first snow was falling, and most Hogwarts' students were enjoying themselves having snowball fights on the grounds. But yet, the wizarding world did not really feel like celebrating the Christmas that was coming up. The spirits were low, everywhere.  
  
Reasons for that were mainly the Daily Prophet and the Ministry of Magic, who were 'telling people what was going on'.  
  
According to what the newspaper and the Ministry said, Harry Potter had - after his first attack on a Muggle family - been roaming about both the Wizarding and the Muggle world, killing various people - Ministry officials and other random wizards and witches, to take revenge on the wizarding world - and some Muggles. . . for no apparent reason but to have fun, it seemed.  
  
Both the Daily Prophet and the Ministry of Magic had earned themselves high respect by enlightening people on how exactly the Dark Wizard Harry Potter committed all those terrible crimes, what evil dark magic he performed, who he killed, and why.  
  
After all, it was important that people knew about things. . .  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry Potter and Severus Snape were once again sitting in their favourite restaurant in Muggle London, enjoying their breakfast. They looked like normal Muggles and they behaved like normal Muggles - except, perhaps, for the strange things they sometimes talked about, but they talked rather quietly, and even if you caught something of what was being said, you wouldn't understand a thing.  
  
"You look rather tired today." Harry said.  
  
Snape smirked. "I know. I haven't slept much last night."  
  
Harry shook his head, but smiled. "You've been working on that potion of yours again, haven't you? You really spend all of your time on that thing. . ."  
  
"I can assure you that I didn't spend any more time on it than is necessary." The elder man replied. "And you should really respect 'that thing' more, for it's not some kind of rubbish, but the best healing potion that I've ever heard about. And if it works, Evans, then I'm sure you'll be the one consuming all of it, with all the trouble that you're always getting yourself into."  
  
Harry smiled again. "Possibly, yes. But you kind of. . . make me feel bad when you're always hanging around in that super potions lab of yours. You see. . . I'm the one supposed to kill Voldemort one of these days, so I should be the one studying all day and all night, not you."  
  
Snape smirked. "But you do. All day, at least. I hardly see you around. And I'm not working on the potion all day and all night. You see, there are certain times when the potion needs certain things. . . like a new ingredient added, for example. You can't just add all things at once. That's a problem with complex potions. But. . . we're driving off subject. So tell me. . . have you discovered anything interesting since supper yesterday?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Actually, I have found a curse that sounds very. . . well yes, interesting. Not easy to perform, but I think I'll have no problem with it."  
  
"You don't have a problem with any curse, do you?"  
  
Harry ignored that comment. "Anyway, it slowly drains the energy off your enemy with every move he does, every spell he casts. You can watch him get weaker and weaker. A very dark and dangerous curse, but interesting, don't you agree? You know. . . I'm searching for somebody to test in on. . ."  
  
Snape sent him a mock glare. "Don't you dare, Evans. . ."  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Hermione was sitting on a seat in the Quidditch stands, watching the Gryffindor team train for an approaching match against Ravenclaw. They were playing well, she thought. Harry really had done a good job on them.  
  
"So, Hermione. . . got yourself a new hobby training the Gryffindor team in Quidditch? I thought you were not a fan of broomsticks?" asked a voice from behind.  
  
Hermione turned and looked straight into the eyes of the last person she had expected to meet up there.  
  
"Actually, I am not. . . that's why I'm sitting here and just watching them, instead of flying along. All I can do is do research about some moves and teach them about different strategies. But you know what? I think that they'll do just fine after everything that Harry taught them so far. I mean, look at them fly, Draco."  
  
Draco did. "They really have made some process. Slytherin has got some serious competition now."  
  
Hermione sat back down and Draco took the seat next to her. Together, they watched the team play for a while, in silence, until Thomas Weasley went for a dangerous looking dive straight towards the ground.  
  
"Whoa!" exclaimed Hermione, "It scares me off to watch this, really, and it isn't even anything compared to what. . . certain people. . . used to do when I was younger. God, I think I'd die if I was Thomas right now. . . I haven't been on a broom in years."  
  
Draco looked at her. "Really? In years?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"It really isn't as bad as it sometimes looks, Hermione. Actually, it's fun. I think you should try. And it isn't too dangerous at all. . . because we would, of course, fly very slowly, and not too high. . . and I promise you that we won't do any dives." Draco said.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Is this an offer to teach me to fly again?"  
  
Draco actually smiled. "Yes, it is. How about it? I mean, when I'm with you on a broom, you're a lot safer than when you are all on your own, I guarantee."  
  
"Yes. . . yes, I agree it probably is. And since you offered, I guess I'll take the chance to try some flying again after all these years. So. . . when and where?"  
  
Draco deliberated. "On the pitch, after supper?"  
  
"Yeah, that's perfectly fine with me."  
  
Again, they were silent for several minutes, watching the children fly, until Draco excused himself, saying that he had some essays to read through.  
  
Back in his chambers, he laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He would meet her after supper on the pitch. They would fly together. Together, on one broom.  
  
Draco thought that if Voldemort knew what he had just done, what he was thinking. . . he would probably have this new invention of 'his lord'. . . this stupid "Worse-than-Cruciatus" thing. . . already on him.  
  
But he would not let that monster stop him this time. He would not let that monster suppress his feelings. Not ever again.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry was sitting at his desk in his study, in a rather bad mood. He had been learning curses, doing some exercises (since he knew he had to be in top physical conditions if he wanted to duel Voldemort), learning curses, doing some transfiguration research, learning some extraordinarily dark, dangerous, complex and exhausting curses. . . and similar things. . .  
  
All morning.  
  
And now, he was plainly tired. And it wasn't even evening yet.  
  
At the moment, he was writing down some notes about interesting duelling spells and curses that he had read about. He sighed in frustration when his tired body tipped over a the bottle of ink, and the ink spilled all over the desk.  
  
He actually swore aloud as he realised that the ink was now all over his precious Gryffindor book that he had placed there earlier.  
  
"Clumsy, Potter." snarled Snape from behind him, looking amused.  
  
"God, can't you knock before you come in?" Harry snapped.  
  
"Well, the door stood open, and I did actually knock on the frame. You were a bit too deeply into your work here, I think, Potter."  
  
Harry said nothing as he picked up the book while he cleaned up the desk with a single wave of his hand.  
  
"I hope that book will be as easily cleaned as the table, Potter. It's a powerful magical object. Any spells could harm it, or activate. . . whatever secrets and dangers it conceals." Snape said.  
  
"I am perfectly aware of that." Harry answered, irritated, and opened the book to look how the pages had reacted to the ink.  
  
He almost dropped it when he saw that they were perfectly clean.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
It was a Friday afternoon, and both Sirius and he had had a very hard week. Even though Potter had not showed up anywhere near Hogwarts so far, the attacks he had done on several families - both wizard and Muggle - had made the students' parents fear for their children's safety again. Letters of complains were coming in, letters of reassurance were being sent out again.  
  
But now that Christmas was approaching, Remus decided that 'Deputy Minister Black' would have some fun like the rest of the world - in spite of whatever that Potter traitor was doing.  
  
Remus knocked at the door to the private chambers of the man he considered his best friend. He did not have to wait long, and a rather happy looking Sirius opened the door.  
  
The happy expression turned to irritation when the man saw who had knocked.  
  
"Remus." Sirius Black acknowledged.  
  
Remus ignored the coldness and offered a warm smile. "Hi, Sirius! I thought we could go out for a while and relax from all the. . . work. Go flying or something. . . or a trip to Hogsmeade. . . or whatever you feel like. I mean, you've been working very hard lately, and Christmas is approaching. . ."  
  
"Actually," Sirius interrupted, "I have already planned to meet Cornelius and Neville with some other aurors in Honeydukes to spend the afternoon with."  
  
"Good." Remus said. "I'll come along. When will we. . ."  
  
"I don't think that's such a good idea."  
  
Remus frowned. "Why?"  
  
Sirius just looked at him saying nothing. But Remus understood anyway.  
  
"What's your problem, Sirius? Am I suddenly not good enough to be a friend of yours anymore? We haven't spent any time with each other in months, Sirius! Months! And now that you finally decide to allow yourself some free time, you don't want to share it with me! What the hell is wrong with you?!"  
  
The Sirius Black's eyes and voice were cold as he answered: "Perhaps, Lupin. . . perhaps the problem is not me, but you. You're constantly hanging around me, constantly asking when we could spend some time together. In case you haven't noticed, I'm the Deputy Minister of Magic in these days, and there's a hell lot of work for me to do. I don't have much free time, Lupin, and I certainly won't spend the little that I have with you, flying around on a broom, talking about childhood adventures or other such nonsense. Perhaps, if you cannot cope with that, you should go looking for a new little friend to play with. I'm sure you will find one with a bit less responsibility, and a bit more free time."  
  
Remus just stared. This was not the Sirius Black he knew.  
  
"Sirius," he whispered, "please tell me that you didn't mean any of what you just said."  
  
Black just looked at him coolly. "I meant every word of it, Lupin."  
  
"So it's Lupin to you now, is it?"  
  
For a moment they stood there, silent, just gazing into each other's eyes.  
  
It was that moment when Remus Lupin, after years of getting cold looks and being avoided by his best friend, decided to let go. He had always tried to be a good friend for Sirius, he had always been there, he had always tried to cheer him up. Now, Sirius had made it clear that he didn't want any cheering up, or anyone other than those stupid aurors around him.  
  
'Fine with me.' Remus thought. 'You want to push me away? That's your decision, and I must accept it. I'm okay with it. I will give up fighting for you. Just rot in your bitterness, Black. Just stay what you are now, I don't mind. But I know that you will regret it, eventually.'  
  
When Remus finally spoke, there was none of the pain, betrayal and sadness that he felt in his voice.  
  
"If that's how you want it, I'll have to accept it. And you know what? I think I'll take your advice and seek the company of others. . . not necessarily with more free time, but with a friendlier attitude. But I want to tell you something, too: You ought to keep some true friends next to all the false ones you collect, or you might find yourself all alone if you ever need someone."  
  
With that he walked off, fast.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry and Snape stared at the Gryffindor coloured book.  
  
"Potter. . . I don't think that this is normal, even for a magical book."  
  
"I know." Harry answered. "But I've seen this before."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Tom Riddle's diary."  
  
Of course, Snape knew about that incident with the Chamber of Secrets in Harry's second year, and its background. Albus had told him all about it, and though he had never shown it to anyone - least of all Potter -, he was quite impressed with how the twelve year old boy had taken out a Basilisk with nothing but a sword. . . and the help of Dumbledore's Phoenix.  
  
Harry grabbed the feather he'd been writing with and dipped it into another bottle of ink. Snape watched, startled, as he began to write into the empty- paged book.  
  
'Hello. Who are you?'  
  
"Why did you do. . ." Snape started to say, but stopped immediately as an answer appeared:  
  
'I want to know your name before I give you mine.'  
  
Harry looked at Snape, who looked a bit shocked. "You said that Riddle's diary worked the same way?"  
  
"Yes. Shall I give him my name?"  
  
Snape thought about it. . . "Yes. . . I don't think that could do any harm."  
  
Harry wrote: 'My name is Harry Potter'  
  
'Did you open this book?'  
  
'Yes'  
  
'Then you are my heir. Only my heir can open this book.'  
  
'Who are you?'  
  
'I am Godric Gryffindor'  
  
Harry stared at the book. Snape stared at Harry. For both, these news had been totally unexpected.  
  
After a while, Harry looked up at Snape.  
  
"I am the heir of Gryffindor!" he whispered.  
  
Snape offered a short smile, imagining what it must be like to suddenly find out that you are the heir of a person like Godric Gryffindor.  
  
"That seems so, Potter. Always in for a surprise, aren't you? But this, I think, is a good one. If you can. . . chat. . . to Godric Gryffindor all you want. . . Imagine, Potter. The knowledge of Godric Gryffindor. This might be the key to destroying the Dark Lord."  
  
Harry slowly nodded. Then he turned back to the book.  
  
'I am glad to get to know you, Godric. I have a big problem here which I am sure you can help me with.'  
  
** +++++ **  
  
"My loyal Deatheaters."  
  
The kneeling figures bowed their heads in 'respect', making sure not to move or to make too much noise, by breathing too loudly.  
  
"It is getting time, my followers. I am very strong now, we can set the plan into action. We will take over Hogwarts. It will not be long, and the worthy ones will rule the world. All mudbloods and all in our way will get what they deserve. But first. . . there is one more little problem so solve."  
  
He laid in a dramatic pause, sending shivers down the spines of every single Deatheater.  
  
"There are certain. . . individuals. . . that I want to know taken care of first. The most important one being Harry Potter."  
  
The Deatheaters wondered what their 'master' had in mind this time.  
  
"We shall get them all, and we shall get them all at once. I have the plan already figured out. We will. . . kidnap. . . certain people. Knowing Fudge, the blame will be put onto Potter."  
  
The monster smirked. "An interesting side effect, isn't it? Anyway. . . Potter, being the perfect hero that he is, will of course come to their rescue. I do not doubt that he will manage somehow, that annoying tick. And when he comes. . . I will be here, as will you. Potter will never return, never get into the way again. Any objections to the plan?"  
  
Those who were confident that the 'Boy-Who-Lived' would somehow find a way to escape again - because he always did - didn't dare to say anything.  
  
"Good." Voldemort hissed. "Now, for carrying it out. I think that we have just the perfect person to do this. Draco!"  
  
"Y. . . yes, my Lord?"  
  
Draco crawled nearer to his 'master' not once raising his head to look into those cruel red eyes.  
  
"This is a list of people who I want here. Bring me one each day, in the exact order on the list. You will start tomorrow. Bring them here by portkey, and be careful not to attract any attention to yourself. Will that be a problem?"  
  
"No, my Lord."  
  
"Good. See that it won't, or the consequences will be yours to bear."  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
Voldemort handed other lists to other people, giving them the same instructions.  
  
"Meeting dismissed. I will see you here tomorrow, together with our new. . . guests. You can look forward to it. . . for I think that I will let you spend some time with them."  
  
"Thank you, my Lord." The Deatheaters chorused, then apparated away.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Hermione was just turning to leave when she noticed Draco walking up towards the castle - from Hogsmeade.  
  
"Where the hell have you been?! I've been waiting for you out here in the snow for half an hour!" she called as the man approached.  
  
"I'm sorry." he muttered, his voice weak. "I had to. . . business, you know."  
  
"Business?! What sort of business does a man like you have in Hogsmeade. . ."  
  
Her expression turned from furious to shocked and concerned when Draco looked up from the ground and met her gaze for the first time. "My God, Draco, what's wrong with you? You're deathly pale!"  
  
Draco was shaking. "I've just. . . had a very bad day. I don't. . . want to talk about it. . . please. . ."  
  
Hermione had never seen him so upset, so out of control. She wondered what the hell had just happened to him in Hogsmeade of all places, but if he didn't want to talk about what was on his mind, she would respect that.  
  
"Come on, we'll get back to the castle." she said.  
  
Draco just nodded, and together they walked in silence all the way, he breathing rather shakily, shivers running through him occasionally, and she with her arm around his shoulder, giving him wordless support that he appreciated more than he could show.  
  
Though his mind was still full of the meeting he had just attended, Draco enjoyed the moment, just being close to her, without having to explain himself.  
  
But then, he thought, he'd never be able to tell her what was troubling his mind, because he was sure that if she knew what he was, what he had done and was he was about to do for his master the next day, she would hate him.  
  
He would lose her, and he couldn't afford to be alone again.  
  
Hermione stayed with him until they were standing in front of his private rooms, in the dungeons. After they had said goodnight to each other, Draco whispered a soft "Thank you" and went straight to bed, knowing what he would dream about that night. But he didn't have a choice, he had to do what his master wanted. And he'd do it early. Having to think about what he had just done was a bit easier than having to think about what he had to do.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Next morning. Remus Lupin was standing in the snow at the frozen lake, watching the sun rise. He hadn't got much sleep, but he didn't feel very tired at all. Well, not physically anyway.  
  
Remus had spent most of the last night thinking about what had happened to the man he had used to call his best friend in life. He doubted that Sirius would ever come back to his old self, that their relationship would ever become what it used to be. And one thing was clear.  
  
If Sirius ever decided that he wanted Remus' friendship again, he would have to give him a huge apology first.  
  
Remus didn't move as somebody walked up from behind him, and he didn't turn around as the person was standing directly behind him.  
  
"You're up very early, Lupin. Had a bad night?"  
  
Lupin nodded, recognising the man's voice. "Yes. . . a lot to think about."  
  
"So had I. Very much to think about indeed. And I came to a result after thinking through things for a long time. Do you know what that result is?"  
  
Remus shrugged, wondering why the man was telling him all this.  
  
"The result of all problems is, Lupin, that when something is really bothering you, you must find a way to accept it, or it will crush you. You need to accept things, sometimes. Do you understand that, Lupin?"  
  
Remus was a bit confused. "Yes. . . I guess I understand that in some situations you must just accept things and go on."  
  
"Good." The man said, his voice strangely emotionless. "I'm glad you understand. It makes things a lot easier for me, you know, knowing that you understand."  
  
Remus didn't have a clue what he had meant by that last sentence, so he said nothing.  
  
"I don't know why he chose you. I've been wondering about that, too. Perhaps he thinks that choosing you will hurt Black a lot. Because hurting the Ministry, and the general public of course, is all he wants. Or perhaps he just thinks that you're the perfect man for this because you're so average on the one hand, and on the other hand, so. . . loyal, and innocent. Everybody will grieve about you once it's public, you know. And they'll hate Potter even more. Another thing he'll like."  
  
Now Remus turned around. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"You won't be alone, you know. There'll be several. Several innocents, that will make the public grieve. The newspapers will have a lot to do. But think of it this way. . . you won't be alone."  
  
He pulled out something from a pocket of his pants. A galleon.  
  
"Can you see this, Lupin? I charmed it, just for you. Spent a lot of energy on it. And yet, it won't be of any use to you. Ridiculous, isn't it?"  
  
Remus' emotion turned from utter confusion to concern for the man before him, who was doing and talking complete nonsense.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy? Are you feeling alright?"  
  
Malfoy laughed, making Remus frown.  
  
"No, Remus, I'm not feeling alright. My master makes sure I can never feel alright. And he'll be doing you that favour, too."  
  
He tossed the galleon in his hand - which was gloved - over to Remus.  
  
"Catch"  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Cliffhangers Rule!!!  
  
Here we go again. A bit of action, a bit of angst and even a little hint of romance. I hope you liked it; I certainly was satisfied, though it's shorter most. So Draco has started to fulfil his terrible task, Sirius is being more of a git than ever, a lot of Remus (as I promised) and of course, Harry and our dearest Snape. Hope you like where this is going.  
  
I'm sorry that I haven't updated for so long (though you'll probably have got used to it by now), but I've been having a lot on my mind lately (I've got this big plan, you know, but I'll tell you all about that once everything is certain).  
  
I was asked if I had any recommendations for 'Harry-wrongfully-accused- fics'. I have. The best I've read so far is "Betrayed" by "kateydidnt". A brilliant fic. So go and read. . . but not before you have reviewed this one!!!  
  
Thank you,  
  
OTTILCHEN 


	27. Chapter 26: Kidnapped

Chapter 26: Kidnapped  
  
Malfoy tossed the galleon in his hand - which was gloved - over to Remus.  
  
"Catch"  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
"Where the hell's Lupin?" Neville Longbottom angrily called into a room at Hogwarts which had been made into a sort of Recreation Room for aurors, where most of them hung around between their shifts.  
  
The conversations stopped at once.  
  
"We don't know where he is." someone finally said, "He hasn't been here all morning, sir."  
  
"Well, I've noticed that! What does he think he's doing, skipping work all morning! It's not like we have too many men here or something! It's the safety of Hogwarts school we're protecting here, I thought that a sensible man like Lupin would see the importance of that task!"  
  
Nobody dared to speak, and Neville cooled down a bit. "Tell him to contact me once he turns up." He said. "I have a lot to say to him."  
  
He turned to leave the room, but the Deputy Minister was blocking the way.  
  
"What's wrong, Sirius?"  
  
Neville had never seen Sirius Black like that, except for the first few days after Potter had betrayed the world, perhaps. His boss and friend was shaking and sickly pale.  
  
"Have you seen. . . Remus Lupin. . . lately?"  
  
"He hasn't been at work all morning, Sirius. I was just checking here. I'll tell you immediately when he's found. . ."  
  
"I know where he is."  
  
Neville blinked. "You do? Then. . . what's the problem?"  
  
Sirius took a heavy breath. Then he handed Neville a piece of parchment he'd been holding.  
  
Neville stared at the thing, too shocked to do anything but. Some curious aurors stepped closer to read over his shoulder, reacting much like he did.  
  
The thing was written in blood:  
  
**  
  
You have locked me away for years and taken my very soul apart. Now I will take you apart, one by one. You will suffer as much as I did, if not mentally, then physically. I will take what is mine. Lupin is only the beginning.  
  
Harry Potter  
  
**  
  
Neville slowly lifted his gaze from the thing to the Deputy Minister, who was taking what had happened very badly.  
  
"Who have you shown this to so far, Sirius?"  
  
"I. . . I found it in my office, I. . . got no clue how it got there. Then. . . I brought it straight to here, to see if. . . if it was really true, or if it was. . . some sort of bad joke. But. . . if he's really gone. . ."  
  
"Alright. We need to act fast." Neville urged. "You'll bring this thing to Fudge, I'll tell the headmaster."  
  
But Sirius didn't move. "Do you. . . think that he's. . . making him suffer much before he. . . kills him? He's. . . he's insane, you know. . . he could do anything. . . to Remus. . ."  
  
Neville sighed. "It'll all be fine, Sirius." He laid a hand onto the shoulder of the shaken up man. "You know what? I'll show Fudge and then I'll tell Dumbledore about. . . it. Or no. . . I'll better do it the other way around. You will go back to your rooms and have a nice rest, okay?"  
  
Sirius didn't object.  
  
"Okay." Neville said. He turned around and ordered two of his men who were watching the scene with shock to accompany the Deputy Minister back to his rooms. Then, without another word, he turned and left for Dumbledore.  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
Harry was doing his morning run. Only a few days after he and Snape had properly moved into the Chamber and prepared things, he had come up with that idea. A good dueller needed to be in good physical form, so Harry did a lot of training. He had made himself a course through some of the huge pipes, cleaned it up and marked it. It was ideal for the purpose, and Harry now ran his course twice a day. He'd started with two laps, but soon learned that he could do far more than that.  
  
Harry had just finished his third of five laps of running. Snape was stopping the time.  
  
"You're too slow, Potter! Honestly, do you think that can impress the Dark Lord? You were five seconds faster in the last lap, I want to see speed!" he shouted.  
  
Harry ran faster, now almost sprinting, powering himself out. He wondered if Snape was aware that he'd make a good coach, even though he always did his best to hide his encouraging shouts behind a bit of sarcasm.  
  
Harry, at full speed, was about to jump up into a pipe that was about a foot from the floor, when something was suddenly floating in front of his face.  
  
Harry lost balance and found one of his feet stuck behind the edge of the higher pipe. He fell, hard.  
  
Snape, who'd still been in position to see Harry, jogged over to him.  
  
"What's wrong, Potter, problems staying on your feet?" he tried to sneer, though his voice sounded a bit concerned.  
  
"It's nothing, I'm fine. But there was. . . there suddenly was this thing in front of my nose. . ." Harry assured and rolled over, to reveal a piece of parchment that he'd buried under himself when he had fallen.  
  
It was Snape who picked it up, and he paled as he read it.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Snape just shook his head in disbelieve.  
  
"What is it, Snape? It's that messenger paper we share with Albus, right? What does he write?"  
  
"Definitely nothing good."  
  
Harry, impatient, snatched the parchment from Snape's hand, and read.  
  
#  
  
Remus Lupin has been kidnapped, and they're framing you, Harry. A letter has been left in Sirius Black's office.  
  
I quote:  
  
"You have locked me away for years and taken my very soul apart. Now I will take you apart, one by one. You will suffer as much as I did, if not mentally, then physically. I will take what is mine. Lupin is only the beginning.  
  
Harry Potter"  
  
#  
  
Harry shut his eyes. This was unfair, just unfair. Why Remus? Why him? What the hell could he do? He had to do something!  
  
? "We don't know where he is, Potter. There's nothing we can do." said Snape softly.  
  
Harry glared at him. "Well, Snape, do you suggest that we wait here and bet on for how long Voldemort will torture him before he kills him?" he snapped, suddenly furious.  
  
Snape blinked.  
  
Sammy the snake wriggled up on him.  
  
"Why are you so upset, Harry Potter" she asked.  
  
Harry breathed in and out deeply. "Something very bad has happened, but I'll go into detail later. Tell me, Sammy. . . is Snape very mad at me at the moment?"  
  
Sammy looked at the other human around her. "A bit. . . but not much. He's a bit upset, too, though."  
  
Harry sighed. "Look, Snape, I'm sorry for reacting. . . like that. It's just that. . . well. . ."  
  
Snape nodded. "It's okay, Potter." He assured. They looked at each other in silence for a while.  
  
"It's just that you absolutely hate not being able to help people, right?" Snape quietly said.  
  
Harry nodded. It seemed that Snape was finally starting to realise what sort of person he was.  
  
"Let me suggest something, Potter." Snape said. "I know the Dark Lord, I have worked under him for many terrible years, believe me. And I do believe that I know most of the places where he usually hangs around to. . . do the sort of things that he does. But, Potter, as I said, there are many places where he could be, and there are probably even more places that I do not know about. At the moment, we can really do nothing. But I promise you, as soon as we find out where that monster has brought Lupin, I will support whatever. . . crazy rescue plan. . . you'll come up with. Is that okay with you?"  
  
Harry thought about it. "Well. . . as bad as that sounds, I think that it's the only thing we can do, really. I only hope we'll find out more about this mess soon, so that we can act."  
  
"So do I." Snape said. Then he summoned a quill from his desk.  
  
#  
  
Albus, we got your message. Please keep us informed on anything that you find out. We will help if we can.  
  
#  
  
And Albus answered:  
  
#  
  
Of course I will. I appreciate your help and hope that we can act soon. Goodbye.  
  
#  
  
Harry sat down on the ground of their exercise room, where the start and finish of his pipe course was, still rather upset. He knew that Remus Lupin probably hated him right now, but that didn't keep him from liking the werewolf. It wasn't Remus' fault, after all. He didn't know better than to believe what the Ministry of Magic and Sirius Black, his best friend, fed him. Harry didn't blame him for believing him to be a murderer. Remus Lupin was an innocent man.  
  
"I wonder why Voldemort took Remus of all people." he said quietly. "I mean, why not. . . Fudge or someone. Or Sirius. They have more power in the Ministry, and I'd be more likely to take revenge on them. I mean, Remus never did anything to me. . ."  
  
"You see, Potter. . . I think that's just why he took Lupin. I mean, the Dark Lord obviously wants people to hate you, to put it plain. Remus Lupin might not have much power in the ministry, his face might not appear in the Daily Prophet every day. . . but he is very popular among all ministry workers, always the nice guy, cheering people up. . . and as you said, he never did anything to you. . . except, of course, believe that you were a murderer, but everybody did that to you. Anyway, people will now think that everybody, even those who've nothing to do with the ministry, are endangered. They think you're ruthless, attacking even those who are innocent even from your point of view. They're more scared and more angry."  
  
Slowly, Harry nodded. "Yes. . . I think you have a point. That will be it."  
  
There was silence for a while.  
  
"Potter. . ." Snape started again, "Even if we know where Lupin is. . . what are you planning to do about it?"  
  
Harry thought for a moment before answering. "I think we'll do it. . . similar to the way we handled Gringotts."  
  
"What, run in, cast a few spells, and run out again? There'll be more than a few foolish Ministry aurors this time, Potter. There will be very many Deatheaters with a lot of Dark Arts knowledge, and there will probably be the Dark Lord himself waiting for you. If we get those information about Lupin's location too easily, Potter, then we can be sure that the point of the whole thing, besides making you even more unpopular in public, is to set a trap to get you out of the way."  
  
"Yeah, it'll be another Harry-Potter-death-trap." Harry snorted. "Don't worry, I am perfectly aware of. . . Voldemort's obsession with me. Whatever we will do, we will check things out first and then come up with a plan that doesn't involve too much danger. Okay?"  
  
"Yes, that is good." Snape said. "And now, Potter, let's go back to work. I thought that. . . maybe we could practise some duelling together?"  
  
Harry snorted. "You won't last a minute."  
  
"I know." Snape simply stated. "Not many would. That's why I though you'd train dodging and I'll train attacking?"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What, you mean you'll be hurling all kinds of spells and curses at me, and I'll be desperately trying to get away from them?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Well. . . good, I agree. Let's see how long I will last with no use of magic." Harry responded. "But only if we get a decent breakfast first."  
  
They did.  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
3 days later  
  
It had been years since Harry had last been to a press conference.  
  
The convict was standing at the very back of the big yard in front of the Ministry headquarters, where the press conference took place, because there were way too many people to stuff into any of the rooms inside the building. People from all over the planet were there, taking in information for wizarding communities of lots of countries, some even that Harry had never heard of. People were posing question after question, and the man standing on a big platform in front of them, surrounded by aurors, looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt.  
  
That man was one Sirius Black.  
  
The chatter of the crowd silenced reluctantly as the Deputy Minister pointed to the next reporter to ask a question.  
  
"Is it true that all the letters Potter writes are written in blood?" asked the young woman.  
  
Sirius Black mentally cursed whatever colleague of him had started telling this around.  
  
"Yes. . . I fear that this is true."  
  
The shocked voices in the crowd were even louder than after the last question.  
  
"Now finally tell us who the last victim was!!!" one man yelled over the noise. "We know there must be another one! We have a right to know who!!!"  
  
Black gulped. "There is a new victim, two in fact, but the Ministry has decided not to give their names out to ensure the safety. . ."  
  
"We have a right to know!!!" yelled now several men and women from the crowd.  
  
The Deputy Minister glanced sideways to where Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, was standing there next to him on the platform, among other people of importance in social life.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and walked forwards until he was standing just next to Black. Black raised an eyebrow at him, and Dumbledore nodded. Many people stared in confusion as the Deputy Minister now stepped aside and Albus Dumbledore began to speak through the microphone.  
  
"Hello everybody. As most of you certainly are aware, my name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the current headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and. . ."  
  
"We want to know who!!!" the yells started.  
  
Again, Dumbledore sighed and, knowing that there was no way around this, held his hand up to silence the crowd. He'd have to give them the names that they wanted.  
  
"The last two victims. . ." he started, and immediately everyone was silent.  
  
"The last two victims, after the aurors Remus Lupin and Seamus Finnigan, were now Ronny Longbottom, a fifth year student at my school, and Hermione Granger, a Hogwarts professor."  
  
Strangely, now there was no shocked chatter. There was shocked silence.  
  
But the people would soon react upon what they had just been told, Dumbledore knew. The parents would want their children home now, not at some school that was roamed by a cruel kidnapper and murderer.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
~ ~ ~ It smelled like blood, fear, tears and death. It always did in Voldemort's torture chambers, where the Deatheaters gathered to have a little fun with their victims before one of them would get the honour of ending their lives. He had been standing there and doing that quite often, and he had always hated it, but never before had he hated it as much as now. Because never before one of the victims had been a person that he truly cared about. Deeply. ~ ~ ~  
  
Draco Malfoy tossed and turned in his sleep, reviving the nightmare he had gone through that day in his dreams.  
  
~ ~ ~ They all looked the same. The werewolf, that Gryffindor brat, the auror and Hermione. They had all gone through about the same, and they were all physically and mentally crushed. He knew that none of them would be able to take it much longer. And he knew that there was nothing he could do to help any of them. And he knew that he should better work very hard now to keep his icy mask firmly in place, or he would die along with them, and that certainly wouldn't help anybody. He wondered how long they would suffer until Voldemort killed them, and kill the only thing on earth that he knew he really cared about. He wondered how many more innocents he would have to bring to his master.  
  
He stopped wondering when it was his turn again. His turn to 'do something' to each of them, painful, but not too bad, or they would die too early. He mentally prepared for that difficult task lying ahead of him, trying to come up with not too painful torturing spells, which was not easy since his mind was consumed by panic.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, step forward."  
  
His master wanted something from him. That was quite unexpected, but he didn't lose his mask and managed to hide the surprise. Years of practice.  
  
"Yes, my Lord." He said and took a step towards his master, then kneeled down and bowed his head. Swift movement, no stuttering, perfect self- control. Again, years of practice.  
  
"You have accomplished your task well, young Malfoy. Nothing, really nothing, has gone wrong for once. You will set an example for all my followers, showing them what the result of good work is. You will be rewarded, Malfoy."  
  
"Thank you, my Lord."  
  
"I have decided to leave the Mudblood to you, I have seen the longing in your eyes. I know that you want her. I grant you all the time you want. You may do as you please with her, but I want her dead by the end of the week."  
  
Keeping the mask in place was getting considerably harder.  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
Hermione was dragged away by two men. She struggled and screamed with all strength she had left, which wasn't much and not a match for that of the two men. She cried, sobbed, begged for them to stop, to leave her alone, to let her go. Some laughed. The other victims cried along with her. The werewolf even made it to his feet somehow and tried to stumble after her, but a simple Cruciatus brought him back down.  
  
Draco knew he'd have to go after her now, or they'd suspect something. ~ ~ ~  
  
The sleeping man knocked his bedside lamp to the floor with the pillow he was fiercely clutching in his fist and swinging around like a club. He didn't wake up.  
  
~ ~ ~ The room was dark, cold and empty. The two of them were alone.  
  
Hermione backed away from him in panic as he came through the door, locked it, cast a sound-proof charm over the chamber and slowly approached her. Soon she was standing with her back against the wall.  
  
There was no sound except for her quiet sobs and his footsteps coming nearer and nearer. He was getting close.  
  
"Don't touch me!" she suddenly exclaimed and ran past him to the door. She couldn't open it, no matter how hard she tried. She was lost. He would use her, and then he would kill her.  
  
Soon she was half sitting, half lying on the ground, a sobbing mess. As he approached again, she didn't make a new attempt to run. Instead, she looked up at his face, but because of the hood, all she could make out were his eyes. She met his grey eyes with her gaze. There was sadness in her eyes.  
  
"I thought. . . you were. . . a good person at heart, Draco. But now. . . I know you're just like them. . . you. . . you Deatheater! I hate you, Draco Malfoy!!!" she sobbed.  
  
He pulled back his hood to reveal tears of his own running down his face. Just silent tears.  
  
"Of course I'd help you, Hermione." He croaked. "I'd do anything to help you. If only I knew how."  
  
Draco looked at the beautiful and broken woman lying there in front of him, a woman that he loved and admired, a woman that he knew would have to die soon, and the sadness became too much for him, and unconsciously, he did what he always did in these situations. He turned it into anger.  
  
He roughly pulled her up by her shoulders, and she was so shocked that the sobs stopped for a moment.  
  
"HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT ABOUT HOW I AM FEELING HERE, HERMIONE?! THERE'S JUST NOTHING I CAN DO!!! DO YOU GET IT? THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO!!!" he yelled at her face. Then he slammed her against the wall just next to the door.  
  
Draco realised that he urgently needed to get away from those people. . . the Dark Lord, the Deatheaters, Hermione. He wouldn't be able to bear facing any of them at the moment without breaking down completely.  
  
When he finally had his mask back in its perfect position, he slowly left the room and out of his master's manor. He apparated back as soon as he could.  
  
Then, Draco Malfoy ran back all the way from Hogsmeade to the castle, not stopping once until he was safely in his rooms. ~ ~ ~  
  
With a short scream, a sweat-drenched Draco Malfoy woke up from the most horrible nightmare he had ever dreamed. Most horrible especially because it had happened. And the man knew that it wasn't over yet. It would only be over when she was back from the clutches of the Dark Lord, save, and when he was able to look into her eyes again. If he would ever be able to look into her eyes again.  
  
Draco knew that if she died now, this nightmare would never end. He needed help. Somebody had to save Hermione from the mess he had got her into, and he certainly didn't know how to do that. But there was somebody who he thought might be able to help him. Somebody who always had an answer to everything, it seemed.  
  
Draco dressed and left his rooms, heading for the headmaster's office.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
It was past midnight, and Albus Dumbledore was surprised when a spell alerted him that somebody was standing in front of the stone gargoyle guarding his office, trying to get in.  
  
He was even more surprised when he saw that the person was Draco Malfoy.  
  
He walked downstairs until he was in front of the gargoyle, then moved it aside, so that he was now standing face to face with the man.  
  
It was the first time ever that he saw tears on the face of the Head of Slytherin.  
  
"What has happened?" he asked immediately.  
  
Malfoy refused to speak in the hall, so a minute later they were sitting in the headmaster's office.  
  
"I think that the two of us can be of great help to each other." Malfoy said quietly.  
  
"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, Draco." Albus said gently.  
  
"You don't?" sneered the blonde. "Well, let me say it this way then, old man: I will tell you the location of the Dark Lords four newest victims if you help me to get Hermione out. . . somehow."  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
Next morning, Harry Potter woke up in a surprisingly good mood, considering the fact that someone (who he suspected to be Voldemort) was kidnapping people. . . and there was one person among those people that he especially cared about. One of his best friends. Hermione.  
  
But he wouldn't let that overshadow the day. It had ruined his mood on many occasions, but there couldn't be anything done about it at the moment, and hanging around in some corner pondering over dark thoughts, memories and fears wouldn't be of any use to anyone. It was Christmas Eve, and though Harry and Snape had not planned anything at all, Harry had decided that he would have a little - only a little - Christmas celebration in the evening, with Snape of course. He even had some presents - for Albus, Hermione, Minerva, Snape and Ronny Longbottom with his gang - out of some mood. He suppressed the bitter thought that he probably wouldn't be able to give the presents to Hermione and Ronny soon. . . if ever.  
  
Harry smiled, looking forward to seeing Snape's expression when he gave his gift to his newest friend. He doubted that the man was expecting anything from him.  
  
It turned out that all of Harry's determination to have a good day had been in vain, as he suddenly found his messenger paper flowing in front of his nose. The headmaster had written to him.  
  
"Harry and Severus, please come to my office immediately, I have come to important information. I believe that we can finally act."  
  
Harry found that Christmas Eve would be very different from the way he had expected it to be, and he was very glad about it.  
  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Author's Note:  
  
So. . . how'd you like this? I tried to make it as dramatic as I could - hope I didn't exaggerate anything.  
  
Next chapter: Harry goes to the rescue. . . but no everything goes as planned. . . It's already written, and I like it a lot. So, something to look forward to.  
  
Anyway. . . review please!!!!!  
  
Ottilchen 


	28. Chapter 27: To the rescue

Chapter 26: To the rescue  
  
Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, together with his friend and Deputy, Minerva, and Draco Malfoy, the man who had told him how to get to the place where Voldemort held his prisoners. Malfoy had said that it was a big, dark castle and that he didn't know where it was, but that there was a secret way for Deatheaters to get there, which he had used many times, and which he could show them.  
  
Suddenly the entrance door opened and closed again after a moment. Nobody had come in though. Or so it looked.  
  
While Minerva and Draco raised their wands and pointed it in direction of the door suspiciously, Albus just smiled.  
  
"Thank you for coming, my friends. I can assure you that I trust all people here with me in this room, and that you can trust them, too. Please, show yourselves."  
  
A moment later, Harry Potter and Severus Snape seemed to pop out of nowhere.  
  
"Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed, leaving his wand where it was, while Minerva pocketed hers and smiled. Harry stared as she strode over to Snape and actually hugged the Potions Master, who reluctantly hugged her back.  
  
"Long time no see, Minerva." he said quietly.  
  
"Very long indeed." She said, remembering the years that her friend had spent in Azkaban. "Are you okay?" she whispered. To everybody's surprise, he actually smiled at her. "Azkaban was horrible, of course. But yes, I am okay now."  
  
Harry turned to Albus. "Since when do you trust Malfoy?"  
  
Albus sighed, wondering what Harry's reaction to the news might be, but knowing that there was no way around telling him.  
  
"Since he provided me with the valuable information of where our kidnapped friends are being held."  
  
"So you got this information from him, huh?" Harry said, getting visibly angry. "And where did he get it from?"  
  
Draco decided that he could as well speak for himself. "I have a high rank among the Deatheaters, Potter." He said quietly. "I know many places of the Dark Lord. And I happen to know where he holds the people that he had taken."  
  
"You happen to know where they are, Malfoy? Good, really good. Do you also happen to know who brought them to Voldemort? Because if you do, please tell me, so that I can rip their head off."  
  
Malfoy looked down, which confirmed what Harry had suspected.  
  
The furious man took a few big steps forward, grabbed Malfoy by the collar and shoved him into the nearest wall.  
  
"IT WAS YOU, WASN'T IT?" he yelled. "YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT IS BEING DONE TO THEM!!!"  
  
"I. . . I had no choice" he whispered.  
  
"YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE!"  
  
"But. . . he would have killed me. . ."  
  
"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!!!" Harry yelled, and punched Malfoy into the side so that he fell to the ground. "THEY CAN BE DEAD AS WE SPEAK, MALFOY!!!"  
  
"That is ENOUGH, Harry!" Albus interrupted firmly as Harry was about to lounge at the man on the ground.  
  
Harry lowered the fist he had been holding up again, then ran his hand through his messy black hair. He released a shaky breath as he leaned against the wall and let himself slump down to the floor.  
  
"And what do we do now?" he whispered miserably. "The Gringotts method?"  
  
"Gringotts method?" Minerva asked.  
  
Snape explained: "Run it, get rid of everything in your way, do your business and get out again. That's the Gringotts method."  
  
"Interesting strategy." Albus said, smiling grimly as he remembered the Daily Prophet's article about Harry's last 'visit' to the bank. "But I think that we don't have the right to decide that alone."  
  
"What, you want to include the Ministry?" Snape exclaimed.  
  
"God forbid, no! But I think that Ronny's parents have a right to know what's going on there."  
  
Everyone thought about this.  
  
"Do you think we can trust them?" Harry asked. "Neville is, after all, an auror. . . one of the Ministry's top people even, I've heard."  
  
"Yes, but knowing Neville, he will be sensible enough to trust Albus with the life of his son more than that idiotic Fudge." Minerva voiced. "But I wouldn't suggest Sirius Black to be here as a friend of Remus'."  
  
"True. He's the last person needed here." Albus said. "But we need a medi witch. Does anybody in this room have objections to Poppy Pomfrey?"  
  
Nobody had. They agreed to keep the group of people knowing to no more than those necessary. Soon, Neville and Ginny Longbottom were there, as well as Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts' medi witch. Harry and Snape, of course, were invisible again as the three entered with absolutely no idea as to why they were there.  
  
The reactions of all three people were the same as they were told the 'rescue plan' by Albus.  
  
"How do you mean, Harry Potter?!" Neville exclaimed. "Have you gone nuts now, old man? HARRY POTTER IS THE ONE WHO HOLDS THEM!!!"  
  
"He is believed to be the kidnapper, Neville." Minerva said quietly. "But in fact, Harry has nothing to do with this. It was the Dark Lord."  
  
"You-Know-Who?" Ginny said. "Really, Minerva, don't you find that a bit ridiculous. . . I mean yes, we do know that he's still somewhere out there, but he hasn't done anything in years, why would he start kidnapping people now?"  
  
"He's been doing a lot more than nothing, Weasley. . . sorry, I mean Longbottom. Someone has been covering things up. He found that rather practical. But whoever is hiding his actions isn't hiding what Potter is supposed to be doing, it seems."  
  
"How would you know, Malfoy?" Neville spat.  
  
"I am a Deatheater, Longbottom." He confessed, hiding his emotions carefully while looking the auror straight into the eyes. "In fact, it was me who brought them to him."  
  
Hearing that, he did something unexpected. He turned around - totally calm, it seemed - and reached for the doorknob, announcing: "Alright, that is enough. I'm going to get the Deputy Minister."  
  
He found that the door was locked.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PLAYING AT, DUMBLEDORE?!"  
  
"Please, Neville, try to calm down." Albus said firmly, authority clear in his features. "I know this must be hard for you. Please, hear me out."  
  
"Good. GOOD!" replied the auror. "And what exactly do you want to tell me, old man?!"  
  
Albus sighed. "Neville, I do not trust the Ministry as much as you do. If they get these information, you know how they will probably react. They will send a large group of aurors there, who will be easily captured, probably killed, by Voldemort and his followers. I do not agree with that tactic. As far as I see it, it would be best if we only sent one, maybe two people to actually go. They will not attract attention, they will be able to avoid Deatheaters. The best choice, I think, would be Harry Potter. He is, as you know well, a very powerful and capable man."  
  
"Capable of killing." Madam Pomfrey interrupted. It was the first time that she spoke since her arrival in the office. "Honestly, Dumbledore - how can you still trust that man after everything he has done?"  
  
"He is innocent of what he's been accused of."  
  
Neville snorted. "Yes. . . of course he is, Dumbledore. What else could he be? He's you golden boy, after all."  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"Now, headmaster, would you please unlock this door so that my wife and I can leave the room? I see no reason to continue this. . . discussion."  
  
Albus sighed. "Alright Neville. I will let you go, both of you. However, I must insist that I alter your memory first."  
  
"What?!" Ginny yelled.  
  
"You heard me right, Ginny. As I already said, I will make sure that this information does not reach the Ministry." Dumbledore calmly stated.  
  
"I can't believe you!" Neville yelled. "YOU DARE TO THREATEN ME!!!"  
  
"I AM JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!" Dumbledore yelled back just as loudly. Since yelling was a very rare thing for him to do, he was stared at for a moment.  
  
At that moment, Ginny started crying softly. "Ronny's life is at stake here, damn it!" she sobbed. "Can't you stop. . . yelling at each other. . . and do something!!!"  
  
Neville pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, honey. . ." he whispered as she cried. To Dumbledore he said: "Alright, Dumbledore. Alright. I will trust you. I will trust you with the life of my son, since it's obviously the only real choice I have. But if anything goes wrong. . . if that Potter does anything to him. . . I'll hold you responsible, Dumbledore, and the consequences will be rash!"  
  
Albus nodded. "I'm glad we finally understand each other, Neville."  
  
"That's not all." Neville said. "Also, I want to know exactly what's going on. I don't care how you do it, but I want to see what Potter is doing. I want to see what's happening, and I want to be able to control Potter. To be able to pull him back any time. . . via portkey or something."  
  
Finally, Harry Potter undid the invisibility spell on himself and Snape. "That can all be arranged easily, Neville. Alright, I agree with your conditions."  
  
Neville's first curse was hurled at him no more than a second later.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Harry Potter was standing in a small chamber in a castle which he knew belonged to Voldemort. It was a bit creepy, he found. The room was a potions lab, and one with many very dangerous Dark Arts potions, it seemed. So Malfoy was the Dark Lord's personal Potions Master, Harry realised with disgust.  
  
"Good, Potter. I've brought you here. From now on I want nothing more to do with you." Malfoy sneered, but there was anxiety in his eyes.  
  
"Well, then you'll have to leave the room, Malfoy, because I have some little things to do before I stroll down the corridors of this awful castle." Harry replied.  
  
Malfoy nodded slowly. He knew he could not do anything from now on. He would stand more in the way than do good if he ran along with Potter now, and though he would never let anybody know, he knew perfectly well that Potter had no problems taking care of himself. He just hoped that this task wasn't too much even for that powerful Gryffindor fool. Yet, it would be no use getting seen with Potter. The results would be horrible.  
  
"Good luck, Potter." He said quietly and turned to go. As he had grabbed the door handle, Potter spoke.  
  
"You know, Malfoy. . ." he said quietly, "I can't promise you that I will succeed. . . that I will get all of them out of here unharmed. But I do promise you that I will do everything I can to do just that. And I mean everything."  
  
Malfoy nodded once, then left.  
  
"Okay, folks, one last check. I suppose you can all hear me back there, and talk to me as well?" he said.  
  
"Perfectly, Potter." assured Snape, "And before you ask, yes, we can also see you. . . or rather not you, but everything you do. It is rather interesting, in fact."  
  
"Good. Do you see any change in what your seeing. . . now?" Harry said, and, concentrating, looked straight through the wall into the corridor where Malfoy had just left into. Hearing Snape gasp, he smiled slightly. "It's one of those practical little charm on my glasses. Rather cool, huh?"  
  
"Yes, 'cool' indeed, Potter." Snape sneered. "Now, please, let's get back to the important things. List your portkeys."  
  
Harry sighed. "I have five portkeys to take people to your very office. Me and the four I hope to bring along. I just hope that these portkeys will be strong enough for Voldemort's wards."  
  
"Potions?"  
  
"One vial each of the following potions: A potion against the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse, one of those extraordinary new-found healing potion of yours, one anti-pain potion and one very disgusting Polyjuice Potion that will make me look exactly like Draco Malfoy and that I hope I will never need." Harry listed. "All brewed by your skilled self, meaning that they will work perfectly." he added, grinning.  
  
Snape, not knowing what to make of that last comment, didn't reply to it. "Anything else of importance?"  
  
"Well. . . I have my most useful glasses, my wand, and a knife which I hope I won't be using either. And I've just recently strengthened the defence spells on myself. I think I'm ready to go, Snape."  
  
It was Albus who answered. "Sure, Harry, go ahead. We'll help you all we can from here."  
  
Harry cast an invisibility charm and a soundless-charm onto himself and was soon afterwards jogging down the corridor. He walked past a few Deatheaters who took no notice of him. Harry found it a bit funny. He could have yelled at those bastards that he was about to free their prisoners, and they wouldn't have heard a thing.  
  
"That invisibility charm. . . is that how you got out of the Great Hall when we. . . came to arrest you?" Neville asked quietly.  
  
Harry chuckled quietly. "Yep." He said. "That was it exactly. Not very wise of you to leave the door standing open, you must admit."  
  
Harry jogged on and on, occasionally walking down some stairs. He was heading for the dungeons, where he suspected Voldemort was holding his prisoners. He found that the number of Deatheaters he met was increasing rapidly, and he had to be careful to avoid running into them. Also the corridors seemed to be getting narrower. Harry now used the X-Ray-Vision charm on his glasses to see them approaching before he rounded corners. . . and there were many corners.  
  
Suddenly he heard a scream. A pained, desperate scream. . . like someone screamed when they were under Cruciatus. It was a high, male voice. The voice of a boy.  
  
"Ronny!" Ginny cried and started sobbing uncontrollably. Neville, too, was frantic, yelling things like "If I ever get my hands at these bastards I swear I will. . ."  
  
"Silence!" Albus commanded, and the boy's parents tried to be quieter as to not miss any other sound that would be important for finding Ronny.  
  
There was a new direction from the direction of the scream. A male voice. "Leave the boy!" someone yelled, quieter and hoarse.  
  
"That's Lupin." Snape whispered.  
  
A laugh could be heard. "Did you say anything, werewolf?"  
  
Remus Lupin's terrible scream followed.  
  
Harry used his glasses again, looking through the first wall. Nothing. The next wall. Nothing. He kept looking into rooms for a while, constantly being interrupted by Neville ("Hurry the hell up, my son's being tortured there!"), until he saw them.  
  
Remus Lupin was on the ground, chained to the wall, screaming horribly, writhing with what looked like a powerful Cruciatus Curse to Harry. His half-naked body was full of big dark bruises and something that seemed to be slashes, probably caused by a knife, perhaps a whip. He looked just like you would expect a man to look after having been in the hands of Deatheaters for almost four days.  
  
Seamus Finnigan, the auror Harry despised, was there next to Lupin, looking similar, but unconscious. Harry could not help feeling sorry for him.  
  
The teenage boy was in no better condition. Not that Harry had expected the Deatheaters to be any easier on him just because he was a child. Ronny Longbottom was at the moment the centre of attention. He was lying on the floor surrounded by a circle of Deatheaters. Finally, the Cruciatus was lifted off, only to allow the boy a few deep breath before the next one of the masked men would take his turn with him.  
  
Harry suppressed the urge to vomit.  
  
"Fun session." Snape spat, disgusted.  
  
Albus, Minerva and Madam Pomfrey were quiet, though Harry hoped that the medi witch was already preparing everything she could from what she could already see she would need. Harry heard some loud sobbing in the background of the headmaster's office. That would be Neville and Ginny, he thought sadly. He wondered if it would have been better if they had not seen that all on a big screen in Albus' office.  
  
He ran on. He was getting closer and closer to the room the two were in. The Deatheaters were getting more and more. After a while he could not avoid touch any longer and pushed them softly aside as he passed. They just stared, never knowing what hit them.  
  
There, that had to be it. Harry checked again by the x-ray charm on his glasses. Yes, that was it. They were all still there. The Deatheaters and their victims. Harry noted that the boy, too, had lost consciousness by now.  
  
He burst in through the door. All wands were pointed at him immediately. Or rather at the open door, since Harry was invisible.  
  
One of them took a step forwards. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"  
  
Apparently they were aware that no authorised person would have made an entrance like that.  
  
"Who do you think I am?" Harry said icily, slamming the masked man into the nearest wall, where he slumped unconscious to the ground.  
  
For a moment everybody stared at where the enemy's voice had come from. "Potter!" someone - who sounded suspiciously like Wormtail - suddenly shouted.  
  
Then the curses began to fly. Forth and back.  
  
The six people gathered in Albus Dumbledore's office saw everything that happened on a big screen, but when asked later would not be able to describe any of it - for more than one reason. First, it all happened much too fast. Bolts of light in all colours approached very fast from every direction. Harry dodged, blocked, shot back, dodged, took out five Deatheaters at once with a big stream of light from one of his palms, then strengthened his magical shield again. . . Another thing was the complexity of all. Except for Albus Dumbledore, those present in the office didn't know half of the curses and spells that Harry used on the masked men, and the shields he cast around himself and the Deatheaters' victims.  
  
After several minutes of intense fighting, Harry Potter, slightly injured and very much out of breath, remained the only wizard standing.  
  
From the headmaster's office came no sound. Harry ran a hand through his messy, sweaty black hair, letting out a breath. The biggest part of the task was done, it seemed.  
  
"What. . . are you. . . doing here?" a raspy voice asked from somewhere at the wall.  
  
Harry drifted his gaze to the werewolf, still panting. "Well. . . what does it look like? I'm getting you. . . out of here."  
  
"Oh. . . taking over from here. . . are you, Potter? Seems just like. . . the sort of thing. . . you would enjoy. So tell me. . . can we look forward to some more. . . Cruciatus curses. . . before you kill us?" said Remus Lupin in his weak voice, with the courage of a man who knew he was going to die anyway shining in his eyes.  
  
Harry wasn't angry, though, he was sad. "What do I have to do to make you believe me, Remus? Haven't I proven my loyalty often enough?"  
  
"You have proven. . . that you are a traitor. . . a murderer. . . and nothing else, Potter. . ."  
  
Harry didn't respond to these accusation; instead he asked: "Do you know where Hermione is?"  
  
Remus Lupin did the last thing Harry had expected. He laughed. A crazy man's laugh. "Do you. . . do you honestly think I'll tell you. . . where she is? So that you can. . . take her also? I'm not. . . a traitor like you, Potter!"  
  
At that point, Albus Dumbledore decided to interrupt their conversation. "Why don't you just send them here, Harry, so that we can take care of them? Also, I think, Remus will probably trust me enough still to tell me where Hermione is held. . . that is, if he knows." the old wizard's voice sounded in Harry's mind.  
  
It was Harry's turn to laugh at this, and Remus stared at him, taken aback. Potter must be totally insane, he explained that odd behaviour to himself. Potter was mental. Of course; that was to be expected.  
  
"Such an obvious thing to do." Harry said to Albus.  
  
Snape sneered. "Yes, well. . . you never were the brightest, Potter." He teased his friend.  
  
Harry took a small red golf ball out of his pocket and tossed it over to Remus. The usual reaction - and the reaction Harry had expected - would be to catch the thing, out of reflex.  
  
Remus Lupin did not, though. Instead he rolled out of the way, an alarmed expression on his face. "A portkey!" he gasped.  
  
Harry blinked. "Oh!" he said a moment later. "Ah, yes. . . I understand. That must be how Malfoy got you here, is it?"  
  
Remus didn't answer. Harry held the golf ball in his hand and slowly approached his former professor, who pressed himself hard against the wall behind him, his eyes wide in horror.  
  
"Don't. . . don't come any nearer!"  
  
"I'm not going to harm you in any way, Remus. I give you my word that I will do nothing to you that you don't want. Please trust me, Remus. . ."  
  
"Stay where you are, you. . . you monster!"  
  
"It's okay, Remus. I won't harm you. I'll get you out of here. Do you trust Albus Dumbledore? I'll get you to Hogwarts, where Albus is. You needn't be scared. . ."  
  
"NO!!!" the werewolf yelled, hitting around him wildly, as Harry pressed the little red portkey in his hand while taking in painful kicks from his feet.  
  
"NO!!!"  
  
"Excito Remus ad Hogwarts!" Harry said, quietly but forcefully.  
  
A second later, Remus Lupin was gone.  
  
Harry sighed. "Now, I knew this would be anything but easy, but I never thought that convincing Voldemort's victims to let me rescue them would cost so much effort."  
  
Snape snorted. "Neither did I. But Lupin is not your problem anymore. Send the others over, will you?"  
  
Harry did. It was easier than with Remus , because they were unconscious. Harry wondered if he should have stunned Remus, too, but Albus had advised him not to lay his wand on any of them, for that could be used against him later in court.  
  
Harry, at that point, doubted he would ever be given a chance at a fair trial, but he followed the advise of the headmaster without argument.  
  
And then he waited, listening to the sound of emotional breakdowns in the headmaster's office, through his communication system. It was rather disturbing.  
  
"Harry, Remus says that they've been held in a tower before Ronny, Seamus and he have been brought to the dungeons. I suppose you should look for her there." Albus finally said. "Severus knows the way, he will direct you."  
  
Harry's jog to the one and only tower of Voldemort's dark castle was rather uneventful. He ran past several Deatheaters, none of whom noticed him, and from the headmaster's office, nothing was heard except for Ginny Weasley's occasional dry sob, Snape's directing and Madame Pomfrey's healing work on her patients (whose small cries Harry could hear as well).  
  
"There you are, Potter. And now be a bit more cautious unless you want to get yourself killed. . . not that I would mind, of course." said Snape.  
  
Harry smiled grimly. "Liar." He responded quietly. Snape said nothing.  
  
Harry pushed the entrance door to the tower open to reveal only a narrow staircase. Minerva spoke: "Harry, I don't think you should go up there that way. What if you meet anybody? There is not exactly enough space to avoid people, you know. Why don't you use the Polyjuice Potion and go up there as. . . one of them?"  
  
"Transform into Malfoy?" he whispered. "Only as the very last option. . ." Then he remembered something and was a bit mad at himself for not having thought about it earlier. He did have this very practical talent. . . so why didn't he use it?  
  
Harry transformed into the mouse, one of his several forms. It was a good thing to be a Multi-Animagus, he thought.  
  
It turned out that it really was a wise decision not to go up there as his invisible self, for Harry passed a Deatheater as he climbed up step by step, and the narrow staircase would have made it rather hard to avoid collision. The man looked rather smug, and Harry hoped that this expression had nothing to do with his friend who he expected to find somewhere at the end of these stairs. If Deatheaters were happy when they emerged from where Hermione was held, in what condition must she be? Harry felt extremely uneasy and climbed a bit faster.  
  
He reached the upper step with no further incidents and found, surprised, the door standing half open. But as he tried to slip through, he knew why there was no lock needed. The entrance was magically blocked so that nobody without the dark mark of a Deatheater would come in on his own.  
  
But Harry Potter was not nobody.  
  
The mouse leaned its upper legs against the thing and deactivated the block in less than half a minute.  
  
"Impressive." whispered Minerva from back at the headmaster's office.  
  
"You really have an impudent level of power, Potter." said Snape quietly.  
  
Dumbledore merely chuckled and commented: "That certainly would have taken me longer."  
  
Harry was relieved to have mastered the block, a further step towards bringing everyone - including himself - out of Voldemort's horrible castle. But he was also nervous. He was getting closer to Hermione, and though it was his aim to get her out as fast as possible, he was also afraid that she would be anything but fine when he got to her. He wasn't really sure what the sight of one of his best friends severely hurt would do to him.  
  
Harry transformed back into his usual self.  
  
He skimmed the room. There were many shelves at the walls with books on them or with Dark artefacts that looked like the sort of things that Harry suspected could be found in Malfoy Manor, if you knew where to look.  
  
But there was no sight of Hermione, or any hint that she'd ever been there.  
  
Harry used his x-ray vision again. He looked through the walls into the rooms next to the chamber he was standing in. There were many rooms to choose from; more than could possibly be there on one floor in the tower. So the inside of the whole place was enlarged magically. Typically Voldemort.  
  
Harry checked a room. Books, artefacts, nothing else.  
  
Next room. Books. Little library for Dark Arts. Interesting.  
  
Next room. Brooms. Fast brooms.  
  
Next room. More books. Just how much did Voldemort read?  
  
Next room. A wall with chains, an one single person there. In the chains, of course. A woman, unconscious, half naked, full of blood.  
  
Hermione.  
  
Harry ran. From room to room. He ignored Albus frantic warnings to be careful and Snape's hissing of "Hurry the hell up, Potter". He even forgot to put his invisibility spell back into place. He met a Deatheater he had not seen earlier, who was very surprised indeed to find the infamous Harry Potter running up towards him with full speed. He had not even started speaking the deadly curse he had intended to shoot when Harry's fist collided with his jaw and he blacked out. Harry ran on without looking back.  
  
Then, finally, he stormed into the room where she was.  
  
She woke up as he freed her from the chains.  
  
"H. . . Harry?" she whispered weakly, then burst into sobs. "You're here. . . you've really come. . ."  
  
"Of course." Harry croaked, putting on a false smile. "You didn't expect me to just leave you here with those bastards, did you?"  
  
He embraced his friend tightly and let her cry into his shoulder for a moment.  
  
"You. . . you shouldn't be here."  
  
"It's alright, Hermione. Everything will be okay. I'll get you out of here now." He reassured her.  
  
"He. . . he is here, Harry. Please. . . get out. You mustn't. . . be here. . ."  
  
"Sssh, it's okay. Look, I have a portkey. Here." said Harry. "Grab it, Herm. Yeah, good. You'll be with Albus in a moment."  
  
Harry had absolutely no idea what Hermione was trying to tell him, and he thought that it probably didn't make any sense anyway. She had been tortured by Voldemort any his Deatheaters for days, she couldn't be thinking straight. He just hoped that Madame Pomfrey could fix her injuries, and that, someday, she would recover from the emotional damage that had been done to her. And probably more than anything, he hoped that he'd get a chance to get revenge on the bastards who did this to his friend.  
  
"You. . . you must go. . . He is here. . . it's a trap. . . He will get you, Harry. . . you must go now. . ." she sobbed.  
  
"I will." he promised. "I'll go right after you. Now. . . are you holding the portkey tightly?"  
  
"Y. . . yes."  
  
"Good." Harry said. Then he smiled sadly and whispered: "It'll all be over in a moment. Excito Hermione ad Hogwarts!"  
  
She was gone.  
  
"She's here, Potter!" said Snape loudly. "You've done your job. Come back now."  
  
"Gladly." Harry answered with a sigh of relief, grabbed his portkey and activated it, and felt the same shock he had felt when he had wanted to use a portkey to get out of the high security vault in Gringotts.  
  
The damned portkey did not work.  
  
Harry tried to activate it again. Nothing.  
  
"God, I really am trapped." Harry whispered. There was no more noise coming from the headmaster's office. "I should have realised what Hermione meant."  
  
"You're trapped." Snape repeated. "She said that you're trapped. And that He was near. . . and I suppose by 'He', she obviously meant. . ."  
  
"Voldemort." whispered Harry. Hermione in the background was still crying quietly.  
  
On cue, a high, cruel laugher echoed through the room. A laugher that Harry had heard far too often in his life, a laugher that had filled his nightmares at Azkaban.  
  
The laugher of Lord Voldemort.  
  
Harry swung around, clutching his wand tightly. But there was nobody in the room with him.  
  
"Honestly, Harry. . . for the first time ever you visit my humble home, and you do not even expect me to welcome you properly? I am a man with manners, I thought you knew that." said the cruel voice.  
  
Harry tried the x-ray vision of his glasses, but still saw nothing hidden in the room.  
  
"Show yourself, coward!" he yelled.  
  
Voldemort laughed again. "Very well. I would, of course, have met you much earlier, but I wanted my other. . . guests. . . to be gone first, so that my followers and I could turn all of our attention on yourself. We do, after all, have to make up for many of the traditional meetings we tended to have once a year before they were interrupted when. . . the little accident. . . with your friend happened. But I shall come to you now, Harry Potter, so that we can chat."  
  
And then Lord Voldemort appeared in the room.  
  
Harry - and those back at Hogwarts who saw everything through his eyes - got a small glimpse of the Dark Lord's face: His greyish skin, snakelike nose, hollow cheeks, thin, pale lips and narrow eyes with red pupils; the insanity in his eyes, the cruelty about his look that could keep you up for nights, the sheer power radiating from him.  
  
And in that small moment, Harry also saw the thing, a sort of golden medal, at his neck, from that a great part of his power came. One couldn't really say why, but with a look at it one knew that it was pure evil, just like the thing that was wearing it.  
  
After a moment of staring at his archenemy, Harry felt his head explode; there was an intense pain in his scar, a pain that forced him to his knees, that made him cry out in front of the thing that he hated most in the world. A pain that made him see black.  
  
At that point, the magical connection between Harry and the headmaster's office broke and was gone for good, and those left at Hogwarts did no longer know what was happening to Harry Potter.  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
Draco Malfoy was plainly shocked when the Dark Lord had an unconscious Harry Potter dragged into the big hall where he had a meeting with all of his Deatheaters.  
  
So Potter had been caught. Potter had failed to save them.  
  
Hermione was lost.  
  
Draco carefully pushed all emotions aside for later. Showing that he so much as cared for the fate of those he had kidnapped would mean his very death. And Draco certainly had no death wish.  
  
Voldemort threw him to the ground in the middle of the circle and cast some powerful spell on him. Potter's legs and arms suddenly stretched out from his body and were bound to the ground magically by that monster. "Enervate!" ordered the Dark Lord finally.  
  
Potter woke up with a groan and struggled to get up from the ground where he was lying. He found that he couldn't move more of his body than his head.  
  
"What, Harry, you want to leave us already? Lie back and relax!" hissed the Dark Lord.  
  
Potter moved his head up and looked directly into the monster's face. He gritted his teeth in pain. It must be the scar, Draco thought.  
  
Again, Potter struggled against the magical bounds that held him, directed some of his magic against them. It did not budge, Potter's attempts were useless. Draco had not expected anything else. Potter might be an extremely strong wizard, but nobody, not even Potter, had as much power as the Dark Lord, the man he served. Especially not with those new powers the monster had achieved so mysteriously. With that scary medal he now possessed. That surge of pure power. Pure evil in form of a piece of gold. Draco shuddered.  
  
Potter saw it as well, for the first time.  
  
"That's a nice peace of gold you've got there." he commented, his voice betraying none of the panic he was feeling. If he'd learned one thing during the years, it was to stay calm when you were facing Voldemort, or if you couldn't , at least pretend to be all calm. "Is that where your mysterious new power comes from?"  
  
Voldemort smiled evilly. "Aah, yes. . . you have noticed my newest. . . weapon. And I see you also have an idea of what I can do with it. . . if only a vague one. Shall I. . . demonstrate some of its abilities?"  
  
Potter said nothing. There was nothing to say.  
  
Draco wondered why the Dark Lord had not killed Potter already. What did he want from him? He had expected his 'Master' to get rid of Potter as fast as possible, seeing that the two archenemies had met several times in the past already, and in the end, Potter had always escaped somehow. So why didn't the Dark Lord play it save? Why not kill Potter while he had the chance? Who knew how long it would last. . .  
  
Lord Voldemort had planned something with Potter. But what. . .  
  
Draco was ripped out of his thoughts by a sudden, loud, terrible scream. Potter was screaming. The Dark Lord was showing him pain beyond imagination. Worse, even, than the Cruciatus. Worse than anything else there could possibly be.  
  
The terrible curse was held in place for almost a minute. Draco had never seen it so long on anybody, but he knew that even seconds of it was hell on earth. And worst of all, Draco knew that there was something in it to make sure that people didn't faint from the curse - which meant that it could be held for as long as his master wished.  
  
The man on his side chuckled as Potter lay there, moaning quietly, sweating and silently weeping. Draco found it anything but amusing. He even pitied Potter a bit. Now, that was amusing. He had always thought that there was no situation in which he would pity that person.  
  
Potter raised his head again. "What do you want from me, Voldemort?" he spat. An impressing attitude, Draco found.  
  
Voldemort laughed again. That cold, cruel, revolting laugh everybody hated and feared.  
  
"What I want, Harry? It's simple, really. I want you. At my side. I want you to join me." hissed the Snake-face.  
  
"I will never join you. . ."  
  
"We shall see."  
  
And Potter was screaming again. And Voldemort was laughing. And Draco was getting sick.  
  
The Dark Lord started speaking again. Persuading Potter to become his partner. Draco only hoped that Potter wouldn't give in. That his will was stronger than those curses. Because if Potter started to work for the Dark Side now, there truly would be no hope left for the world.  
  
"You're on the losing side, Harry, and you know it. Look at me. Look at my power. You will never be stronger than me, Harry. I will win in the end, that should be obvious to you. You have no chance if you stay where you are. But you have another choice. Join me, instead of going down with that Muggle-loving fool!" said the Dark Lord.  
  
"You're wrong, you know." replied Potter, now visibly weaker. "You're not. . . winning. You have a great weakness. Your power. . . of which you are so proud. . . depends on that. . . stupid medal of yours. Even if you. . . kill me now, someone will manage to take that thing. . . off you, and you'll be as weak and as defenceless as a Muggle!"  
  
Voldemort laughed again. "Is that really what you think, Potter? Then you are wrong. Yes, Harry, this most brilliant magical object holds my power. It is a part of me, directly. But I need not wear it to use it. I can access my powers, no matter where the medal is. There is no way to take this from me. Your choice is to join me, or die."  
  
"Then I choose the latter." Harry spat.  
  
Voldemort smiled thinly. "As you wish. But. . . I shall make it slow, so that you can rethink your choice during the process. Malfoy!"  
  
Draco gulped, walked up to his 'Master', kneeled down and kissed the hem of the monster's robe. "My Lord."  
  
"Get up, Malfoy, and bring me one of the new potions you have brewed. You know, the. . . most entertaining one."  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
Draco hurriedly left the hall. He knew exactly what it was that he was supposed to fetch. Draco had accomplished to brew some 'decent' potions from a new-found potions book for his 'Master'. A book for dark potions, of course. The Dark Lord had, for once, been very satisfied with his work. He had got away unpunished, and he had been rather happy about that. What he was not happy about, though, was the things that he had done to earn his master's praise. Those were some of the most horrible potions he had ever heard of. And now he would be using it on Potter.  
  
He grabbed the one the Dark Lord had found "most entertaining". Also, he pocketed the antidote. It couldn't make up for any damage done, but it could stop the potion from spreading further. He wondered if he'd get a chance to give the thing to Potter before he was dead.  
  
As Draco returned, his fellow Deatheaters were having a go at the man on the ground. They were using various curses and even Muggle weapons on Potter, much to the Dark Lord's entertainment. From time to time, Voldemort stopped them with a signal from his hand, and told Potter that it would all stop at once as soon as he swore that he would work for Voldemort.  
  
Potter did not say a word, or make any sound at all. By now, there were big slashes all over his clothes and body; he was lying in blood. Whips and knives, Draco knew. The favourite weapons of many Deatheaters.  
  
He watched as McNair walked over to Potter and kicked him hard in the stomach. Several rips broke. One must have done something to his lung, for he started to cough up blood soon. Another kick. Leg broken. That was not so bad, Draco thought. No damage to any organ done. And Potter wouldn't have been able to walk anyway, because the Dark Lord was pinning him to the ground by magic.  
  
Lord Voldemort took a few steps forward and spoke again: "And now, Harry. . . I want you to test this new potion that young Malfoy here has done for me. Let's see if you find it as. . . interesting as I do."  
  
Obediently, Draco walked over to the monster, bowed, and gave it the potion.  
  
The Dark Lord took another few steps towards Potter.  
  
Suddenly, Potter spoke up: "And if. . . we. . . destroy it?"  
  
The Dark Lord blinked in confusion. Looking back on the scene, Draco would have laughed. But as it happened, he wasn't even amused.  
  
"Your. . . medal. If we. . . destroy it, its power will be. . . gone, and you. . . will be powerless, for. . . you put all of your power. . . into it." gasped Potter.  
  
"You cannot destroy it." said Voldemort.  
  
"Everything. . . can be destroyed." answered Potter with a small smile, which, Draco thought, must have been very hard for him to manage, with the pain he was in.  
  
Draco listened to every word carefully. Harry Potter, his rival from childhood on, was about to die, that much was sure. He couldn't move. He was defenceless. And Voldemort was about to finish him off. But he had gained valuable information. Voldemort had a weakness: All of the monster's power would be gone for good if the scary medal around his neck was destroyed. One just needed to find a way to destroy it.  
  
Draco swore to himself that he would bring that information to Dumbledore as soon as he could. For Potter certainly wouldn't be able to.  
  
Voldemort took another few steps towards Potter.  
  
"Even if it can be destroyed, Harry, you don't have the means to destroy it here and now, and certainly not the power - you cannot even move. And this would be your last opportunity to do anything against me, Harry. Because you are going to die now." hissed the Dark Lord.  
  
Potter slowly shook his head. "I'm not. . . dead yet, Voldemort. . . and I'm not planning. . . to die anytime soon. It won't be that. . . easy for you. . . to get rid of me." he said quietly.  
  
From there on, things happened very fast.  
  
So fast, in fact, that Voldemort didn't even have time to recover from the shock he'd got when Harry Potter had suddenly broken his shield and sat up, before thrusting a knife at his, the Dark Lord's, body, where it stuck near where the heart must be. Blood streamed down from the wound.  
  
Draco just stared as the Dark Lord stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. His fellow Deatheaters did the same. Then panic broke out.  
  
The Deatheaters divided into three parts: Those who ran to their master to see if there was anything they could do for him, those who started throwing curses at Potter, and those who ran from the hall in panic.  
  
And there was Draco, standing there, not knowing what to do. Finally he decided to have a close look at the Dark Lord, so that later he could tell Dumbledore how much he was injured. The other two options wouldn't have been too good anyway. He didn't want to curse Potter, since they now fought on the same side, and he didn't want to just vanish, for once Voldemort was at full health again - and he was sure that point would come -, those who had left the side would be severely punished, that much was sure.  
  
He slowly stepped forward.  
  
The Dark Lord was lying on the ground, his snake-like face twisted in pain, eyes shut tight. The knife was still in his chest, and there was blood everywhere. Draco knew that, if he took the knife out, the wound would bleed even more. But as much as he enjoyed seeing the monster in the position his victims were usually in, it would be stupid to pull the knife out, for the punishment would be horrible. Probably deathly.  
  
He decided to get his 'master' a healing potion. Voldemort would survive anyway, and the other Deatheaters around him weren't making any progress in healing the wound. So why not use the opportunity to earn the Dark Lord's favour?  
  
Draco made his way out of the hall, and watched as Potter did the same.  
  
Potter was crawling over the ground - his broken leg didn't allow him to stand up. Draco watched him take out three Deatheaters with a movement of his hand. Then Potter conjured up a strong shield with his left hand and held his right hand out towards Voldemort. Immediately, his wand came zooming to him with enormous speed. He held it in his hand a second later. Then he took out the next few Deatheaters. Again he stretched his hand out, and this time it took longer, but then a broom came zooming into it - there were several such brooms in the tower, Draco knew. Potter climbed onto the broom. Now he no longer had the problem that he was unable to move.  
  
'Impressing' Draco just thought, watching. Potter was the best dueller he had ever seen - okay, he knew several powerful people that he hadn't seen duel yet, such as Voldemort and Dumbledore. But still. Potter dodged all that came his way easily, and his curses were so powerful that they took out several men at once. And these were trained Deatheaters.  
  
Potter then blast part of the hall's wall apart - as if it were nothing. He stunned a few more Deatheaters. He dodged many dangerous Unforgivables, his eyes glinting angrily. The he spotted Draco, who stood there and stared at him, stunned. He gave him a weak nod, then flew out.  
  
Draco remembered that he had intended to get a healing potion for his 'Master', and left, too. 


	29. Chapter 28: Effects

Chapter 28: Effects  
  
It was rather hard, Albus Dumbledore found, to keep up the façade of the wise man who was always calm that evening.  
  
Everyone in the headmaster's office had been in a very grave mood since the connection to Harry had broken when Voldemort had come into the room. Dumbledore himself was plainly scared that Harry was dead, but he tried not to show it, and he simply refused to give up hope before he knew more of what had happened.  
  
From his armchair behind his desk, the headmaster surveyed the other people present.  
  
Directly in front of his desk, four hospital beds had been put up, where Hermione, Ronny, Remus Lupin and Seamus Finnigan were being treated – the four persons who Harry had just saved from Voldemort's clutches before he himself had been caught. Madam Pomfrey, the kind soul, was no longer rushing from one bed to another and pushing various potions down her patients' throats, but after she'd finally been satisfied that they were as fine as it was possible for them to be, she had settled down on a seat next to the beds, not taking her eyes off her patients once.  
  
Minerva was, like himself, trying to put on a brave face, though he had been her friend for a long time and he knew from her expression that she was having very troubled thoughts as well.  
  
Dumbledore looked at Remus Lupin and Seamus Finnigan, who were both staring into space. They must have very confused thoughts, he was sure. Why had that murderer helped them out of Voldemort's hell? And why had Voldemort kidnapped them, anyway? After all, the Ministry still refused to admit that he was alive, and even those who knew the truth about his rebirth believed that he was lying low, hiding somewhere, doing nothing. For somebody, Albus knew, was covering his crimes up. He suspected that the Ministry of Magic was involved there.  
  
These great fools.  
  
Dumbledore had not yet told Remus, Seamus and Ronny about Harry's innocence. He wondered briefly if he should so that they wouldn't be so confused anymore, but then thought that they weren't in the mood for a long explanation right now. Especially the young boy.  
  
Of Poppy's four patients, Ronny Longbottom worried him the most. The boy had gone through hell, and on such a young child this could have a traumatic effect. Ronny had not spoken a word after his return, only cried in his mother's arms for a short while, then lain back in his bed, closed his eyes and let his parents stroke his hair. Ginny was still having occasional crying fits, and Neville would from time to time bury his face in his hands and rest his arms on his knees.  
  
Hermione was the only person speaking – she felt responsible for Harry's capture. Even after hours, she was still in tears. Minerva was with her all the time, trying to calm her.  
  
And then there was Severus Snape. Severus was standing at one of the many windows in Albus' office, looking outside. To everybody else, he looked calm, but Albus knew the man better than most and knew from his features that he was extremely nervous, perhaps even a bit sad. Had he given up on Harry? Albus wondered what his relationship to Harry had become during their time together. He wouldn't be surprised if Harry had managed to break through the man's walls and become his friend. And he would be grateful if he had, for Severus could use all friends he got. And so could Harry.  
  
Hermione was quietly crying again, and muttering.  
  
"I should have warned him properly. . . I should have said who I meant. . . of course he didn't understand. . . God, this is all my fault. . ." she sobbed.  
  
"Sssh. . . this is nobody's fault, Hermione." shushed Minerva. "You tried to warn him, and you weren't able to do anything more at the time."  
  
"But I should have been!" Hermione sobbed again. "I couldn't even tell him what I wanted to. . . and now. . . now he's dead because of me. . ."  
  
Snape suddenly wheeled around to face Hermione, his eyes shining with anger.  
  
"God, can't you shut up for one minute!!!" he roared and grabbed one of Albus' silver instruments that lay on the table next to where he was standing. He hauled it against the wall so hard that it shattered into several pieces.  
  
Everybody stared at him in shock. Even Hermione's sobs had ceased. None of them had ever seen the calm man lose control like that. Even Snape himself seemed surprised.  
  
Albus slowly stood up from his armchair, walked over to his distressed friend and laid a hand onto the man's shoulder.  
  
Snape stared at the floor, taking several long, deep breaths. "I'm sorry, Albus." he mumbled, then quickly turned around again and looked out of the window.  
  
He took a big jump back, shocked, as Harry Potter suddenly appeared just outside the window on a broom.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Lord Voldemort had never been so angry.  
  
Most of his servants had fallen victim to his anger before he had finally allowed them to go home. The Dark Lord had shot out many Cruciatus Curses that day, even killed two of his more annoying followers, who had dared to tell him that it would all work out in the end. As if he, Lord Voldemort, a man whose very name every wizard and witch in the United Kingdom feared, needed to be comforted like a weak little child.  
  
He could not tolerate his servants thinking of him as a weak little child.  
  
And he didn't want anyone but himself to cool down his anger. Great anger was a flaw, of course, for it hindered one from thinking clearly. But Lord Voldemort was flawless – his brain worked perfectly through the few emotions he had – and a little anger every once in a while did, after all, give new mental strength.  
  
Not that he really needed it.  
  
The Dark Lord was as fixed on his plans as he had ever been. His time of waiting was coming to an end – he would soon set the big plan into action. He would start with small institutions, and in the end, when all of the wizarding world had given up hope, had stopped fighting and accepted their downfall, when Albus Dumbledore was standing alone with his castle – then he would attack Hogwarts. He had the ultimate weapon – his medal, which gave him power beyond imagination. Nothing could stand in his way. Nothing.  
  
Except Harry Potter.  
  
The dry wood in the fireplace of the room burst into flames as the Dark Lord thought about that person. Harry Potter. The man who refused to join him. The only man who would be considerably hard to get out of the way. Potter, his biggest enemy, who he, the Dark Lord, had, admittedly, failed to kill – again.  
  
He'd had the chance. Potter had been lying there, pinned to the ground, weak and injured. He'd been lying in front of his feet for hours, while his Deatheaters had played with him, while he had waited for him to crack, to agree to become a Deatheater. But Potter had never cracked. Potter had even escaped and got safely back to wherever his hideout was.  
  
Or perhaps he hadn't.  
  
It was a hope that Lord Voldemort still had. Perhaps Potter wasn't fine. Perhaps he was permanently injured, and would therefor be easier to kill later. Perhaps Potter was now lying somewhere on the ground, moaning or screaming in pain, bleeding to death from his wounds. . . perhaps he would be found and arrested again. . .  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry Potter moaned in pain as Snape hurriedly tore the remains of his robes off of his broken body, leaving him in only his black boxers.  
  
Only seconds later he found himself lying in the hospital bed that Dumbledore had quickly conjured up for him upon his arrival.  
  
The headmaster did a magical scan on him to discover the spells and curses that had been used on him, and gasped at what he discovered. Among the most cruel torturing curses he had ever come across, there was one that – as a side effect - deactivated all anti-pain potions as well as sleeping potions or spells. The spell's strength made it obvious that it would last for a long while and be hard to remove. Voldemort's work, the headmaster knew.  
  
Harry was still coughing up blood and the state of his lungs was now Madam Pomfrey's first priority - his broken leg and torn skin would have to wait. The medi-witch treated his broken ribs and punctured lungs with various spells and potions, sometimes assisted by Dumbledore. Harry himself couldn't move. His legs and arms were once again pinned to the ground – in this case the bed – so that he wouldn't struggle against the treatment. And Harry knew that, if he could, he would have kicked around in agony.  
  
Though Harry tried to make as few sounds as possible, the pain he was feeling was written all over his face and the people around him looked at him in a mixture of pity and sadness.  
  
"Albus!" he suddenly gasped and more blood ran out of his mouth. "I. . . know. . . how to. . ."  
  
"Don't talk!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "Your condition is bad enough as it is!"  
  
"But. . . we must. . ."  
  
"I said DO NOT TALK, Mr Potter! Do you want to survive this or not?!"  
  
Hermione's sobs in the background became louder.  
  
Harry desperately tried to catch Albus' gaze, which finally he did. Also, his eyes must have displayed his desperateness to Albus, since the headmaster immediately said: "Poppy, I think that Harry here has to say something important."  
  
"No" Pomfrey shook her head, "No no no, headmaster. Not even on your request will I risk my patient's health. Look at him. We cannot afford to lose any time. . ."  
  
"I know. . . how to kill. . . Voldemort." Harry gasped again.  
  
Finally, he had the attention of all.  
  
"You know how to kill the Dark Lord, Potter?" Snape breathed.  
  
Harry nodded shortly. "He's bound. . . all his power. . ."  
  
Again: A small coughing fit, much blood, a very worried and angry Madam Pomfrey, who, though, stayed silent – as did everybody else.  
  
". . . to the medal. . . around his neck. . . the medal, Albus. . ."  
  
Dumbledore nodded quickly, in order to show that he had understood.  
  
". . . we must destroy it. . . than he'll be powerless. . . like a Muggle, Albus. . . destroy it. . ." Harry gasped, and more blood ran down his cheek.  
  
"Do you know how to destroy it, Harry?" Dumbledore demanded.  
  
"Figure it out. . ." Harry replied, ". . . there must. . . be a way. . ."  
  
"Oh, that's rich, Potter!" Snape spat. "They must have done something to your brain, really! Figure it out! I mean, it's only by far the strongest magical object on the world, but hey, don't worry, we'll just figure out how to destroy it and then we're rid of the Dark Lord! HAS YOUR GRYFFINDOR STUPIDITY FINALLY GOT THE BETTER OF YOU?!!!" he ended, not far from yelling.  
  
Harry shut his eyes tightly. "It's all I got out. . . I couldn't stay any longer. . . he was about to. . . finish me off. . ."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Then, surprising all, it was not Snape, but Hermione, who exploded.  
  
"You willingly stayed in the Dark Lord's captivity to get some stupid information, Harry?! Are you mad?!" she yelled. Then she calmed down a bit and started to cry again. "Do you. . . do you have any idea how worried we've all been? I thought. . . I. . . I" she sobbed, "I was sure that I had killed you!!!"  
  
"I'm. . . okay, Hermione. . . it wasn't your fault. . . I should have realised. . . what you were trying to. . . warn me of" Harry said weakly, before breaking into the next coughing fit that brought more blood running down his face onto the formerly clean white pillow.  
  
"Good, that matter is settled then." said Madam Pomfrey furiously. "You have said what you wanted to. Now I will tolerate no more interruptions in my treatment."  
  
Nobody objected, and again Harry was exposed to various healing spells and potions. Sometimes she had Snape tell her some details about a potion, or she had Albus look something up in a book. Harry was beginning to feel better as the time went by – there certainly was no longer any death danger. Also, those around him were feeling better – more relaxed. Hermione was no longer crying, but talking to Minerva and occasionally walked over to Harry to check on him and talk a word or two. The Longbottoms were also quietly talking, though Ronny did not say anything. Snape was constantly next to Harry, shooting sarcastic remarks and just being there. Harry was grateful for it.  
  
At some point, Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a potion to adapt the repaired part of his lungs to his body and blood system – at least that was what she said it did. What she had not told Harry, though, was that it would be extremely painful.  
  
After a horrible scream, several tears and much struggling against the bounds, Harry Potter sank into a restful, painless, silent faint.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Two minutes to nine. Leon Creevey and Martin Whitby were standing in front of a big grey stone gargoyle, waiting.  
  
They had been rather surprised when that evening at the Christmas feast (where, oddly, Dumbledore and McGonagall had been absent), they had got an owl from McGonagall, their Head of House, saying that they were to meet her at the entrance of the headmaster's office at 9pm sharp, and that it was important that they came alone and did not tell anyone where they were going, if asked.  
  
Both boys agreed that something extraordinary must be going on, for the teacher's orders sounded oddly mysterious. And both agreed that it must have something to do with the kidnapping of their best friend Ronny. What else would McGonagall have to show or talk about to them, and so urgently that they had to come on Christmas Eve? And why else this secret keeping?  
  
They just hoped that it was good news about Ronny rather than bad ones.  
  
The stone gargoyle moved aside to reveal McGonagall standing there.  
  
"You're there, good." said the old woman. "Have you been followed? Does anybody know where you are?"  
  
They shook their heads.  
  
"Good. Come in, then."  
  
The two boys did, and the stone gargoyle moved back into place.  
  
"Professor. . . what is this all about?" Martin asked.  
  
McGonagall sighed. "Yes, Mr Whitby. . . yes, you are right. It is better that I tell you now, before you see it and get a huge shock. . ."  
  
The boys' gazes met. This was something serious. Had anything happened to Ronny? Had Potter done anything to him? Was he. . . no, they wouldn't think about it.  
  
"Mr Longbottom and the other victims have all been rescued out of captivity." informed McGonagall. The words had the effect she had expected.  
  
Leon and Martin screamed with relief and embraced each other tightly. It was a touching scene, found Minerva McGonagall, to see how much these boys cared about their friend, and what this war was doing to them. A wave of hate towards the monster that had caused all this ran through her, but she held her many emotions under control firmly, as she had done so often already.  
  
"So Potter has been caught? By who? Dumbledore or the Ministry?" Leon asked after a long moment of silence.  
  
"Contrary to common belief, it was not Harry Potter who held them." said the Professor.  
  
"Not?" repeated Martin. "But he wrote letters to the Ministry, saying that. . ."  
  
"These letters were fake. In fact, it was Mr Potter who rescued your friend."  
  
"WHAT? That murderer. . ."  
  
McGonagall sighed again. Then, much to their amazement, she pulled out three little stones out of her pocket and laid them onto the floor. She enlarged them with a spell and then transfigured them into chairs.  
  
"You might want to sit down." she offered. "I am now going to tell you a rather long story. . ."  
  
Long it was. Shocking, too. Yet, Martin and Leon believed every word their transfiguration teacher told them. They had never had any reason not to trust her, and the story answered more than one of the questions that they had had.  
  
McGonagall told them the story of Harry Potter – an innocent convict, a fugitive of the Ministry. About how he'd had many experiences with fighting the Dark Arts, about how he'd just risked his life to save those of the others and had been tortured by the Dark Lord after having been caught.  
  
Finally, she said that the rescued people were all being treated in Dumbledore's office as well as their rescuer, repeated once again that Potter was on their side and that they were not to attack him, and that they should try to act normal towards Ronny, though the boy was "not himself at the moment". They wondered what she meant by that, and how the terrible experiences had affected their friend.  
  
After they had been given the main background information and warned what they would meet, the two boys were finally lead into Dumbledore's office.  
  
They got a shock nevertheless.  
  
Indeed, all kidnapped were in the room, looking very much like McGonagall had described: bruised bloody, full of scars. Though the adults seemed to be feeling alright. Professor Granger sent them a small smile, the Auror Finnigan and Remus Lupin said hello. Potter was there, too – asleep. His face was grey and he looked very weak, yet more peaceful than he had on any of the pictures f him that were published in the Daily Prophet. Like the others, he was lying in a hospital bed, but his arms and legs were magically pinned to the bed. Both boys briefly wondered what these security measures were for, now that it had turned out that Potter was not a murderer at all.  
  
Their friend Ronny was lying in a bed, holding his mothers hand, looking. . . empty. He didn't even look down from the spot on the ceiling he had his eyes fixed on when they walked over to him.  
  
"Hi, Ronny." said Leon quietly. Still, no reaction.  
  
When Martin carefully laid his hand onto his friend's shoulder, though, Ronny shrank away from it and rolled over so that he no longer faced the ceiling, but his mother. Martin and Leon saw that he was shaking and clutching Ginny Longbottom's hand stronger than before.  
  
The two boys stared at Ronny, not knowing what to do. So this was what McGonagall had meant by saying that he was "not himself at the moment". They only hoped he would recover from the shock he was apparently under, and open up to them again.  
  
The silence was broken when Harry Potter suddenly moaned and started to struggle against the magic that held him. But it didn't budge.  
  
Both the headmaster and Madam Pomfrey were a his side immediately. All others in the room turned their attention to him, too. Even Ronny looked in his direction.  
  
"A vision, probably. . ." muttered Dumbledore. Pomfrey checked his pulse and remarked that it was dangerously high.  
  
"Is there a way we can stop this, Albus?" she asked.  
  
The headmaster shook his head. "No. . . none that I know of. We've tried Occlumency once, but he's just not made for that. . . He'll survive, Poppy."  
  
There was silence for a while, during which they all looked at the haunted man who was their saviour and who was currently chained to a hospital bed, his face twisted in pain.  
  
"Can we get that on the screen?" asked Snape suddenly.  
  
"WHAT?!" exclaimed Hermione.  
  
"If this is a vision", explained the Potions Master, "it might be important. I know for a fact that Potter forgets some of them. And we cannot afford to miss anything."  
  
Albus considered it. After a moment, he nodded. "I'm not sure if it works, but it is worth a try. Those of you who don't want to see this, please go into my adjoining private rooms for the time. I will get you once this is over."  
  
Nobody moved.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking specifically at Leon and Martin. The two boys nodded. This was their one chance to see something akin to what Ronny had lived through, they both new. They would not miss it.  
  
Dumbledore laid a hand onto Potter's forehead, who tried, in vain, to shake it off – moaning again. The headmaster tried to reattach the charm that linked the man's mind with the screen. Indeed, it worked.  
  
What they saw made them tremble.  
  
*** +++++ ***  
  
"M. . . my Lord. . . he was too fast. . ."  
  
"CRUCIO!" roared the Dark Lord. Most of his Deatheaters had never seen him so angry. His red eyes were glowing.  
  
"Do not ever talk back to me again, Nott!" he whispered after Nott had finally finished screaming. "You have FAILED!!! All of you!"  
  
He glared at each of the trembling black figures kneeling in front of him.  
  
"Goyle, you followed him by broom, too, didn't you?" the monster hissed.  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Why didn't you get him?"  
  
"As Nott said, he was too fast. . . you see, my Lord, he was an excellent Quidditch player at school, always got the snitch faster than anybody else. Perhaps he's been practising his skills and now. . ."  
  
"CRUCIO!" yelled the Dark Lord again, wondering if perhaps he'd be better off without the two dumb gorillas that used to play young Malfoy's bodyguards in their childhood.  
  
"Avery! He stunned you, didn't he? How come?"  
  
"My Lord, as we all know Potter is a very fast and powerful dueller. . ."  
  
"CRUCIO!"  
  
After a short moment he stopped the curse and hissed again in that quiet, deadly dangerous voice: "I had Potter here, lying on the ground before me, unable to move, tortured, weak as never before, and you let him just blow off the wall and fly out. He had a punctured lung, problems breathing. He was practically half dead. Yet, he fought you all down and flew away on a broom, when he was outnumbered 40 to one. . ."  
  
"It was 37 to one, in fact." corrected Crabbe. "Er. . . my Lord." He added upon seeing the shocked and horrified looks his fellows were giving him.  
  
Even Voldemort blinked in surprise when suddenly something happened that had never, ever, happened before, and which none of those present, and neither the man watching through a vision because of his scar, would ever forget.  
  
The incredible pain hit them all at once, and some fell dead, though most survived the huge amount of raw magic and the inhuman pain that it brought, screaming in a way that made their enemies pity them, until their vocal chords could no longer produce any sound.  
  
Voldemort's medal was radiating power on its own, controlled not by his will, but by his emotions.  
  
Even the Dark Lord had not known that his new weapon could work this way.  
  
Voldemort laughed. Things were getting interesting.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
Harry's eyes flew open, yet he saw nothing. He felt pain, worse than anything he'd ever felt before, and he screamed as his enemy's magic went through him, tearing him up from inside, or so it felt. His body was spasming violently, his bed was rattling, and he tried, in vain, to fight Voldemort's magic off with his own. But he couldn't.  
  
Albus was at his side immediately, helping him in the fight against the dark power. Harry rather felt than saw or heard him.  
  
In spite of both their powers combined, Harry was beginning to feel weaker, to feel whatever Voldemort had cast consuming him.  
  
Until Snape managed to pour some potion into Harry's mouth.  
  
Harry still felt physically weak, but his magic strengthened and after a while, Albus and he had drawn all of the dark magic out of his body.  
  
He managed to stop his screams, and his eyes fell shut. He heard voices, but they were sounding more and more distant."  
  
"Will he live?"  
  
"I have hope – he's a fighter. But he'll be physically and magically exhausted for a few days, the way this looks. . ."  
  
Then everything went black.  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
"So, young dragon. . ."  
  
"My Lord?"  
  
Draco Malfoy was, once again, kneeling in front of the thing he called master. It was past midnight and he was extremely tired. He hadn't slept much the last night because he'd had a bad conscience about Hermione and the others that had been tortured because he had brought them to Voldemort, and that night he'd gone to Dumbledore for help. In the morning, he had accompanied Potter to Voldemort's castle, and since then he hadn't left that awful place. Later he'd had much work to do, healing the wound Potter had left on Voldemort, then the long hours recovering from whatever it had been that the monster's medal had done. . . and finally helping the other Deatheaters recover with potions. . . and of course helping getting rid of the bodies of those who had not recovered.  
  
"I understand it that you still have connections to the Ministry of Magic?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
Damn. Sounded like a new mission.  
  
"You will use them to find out some things about them. About their headquarters. You may use all means to get the information, just do not get caught."  
  
"What things, my Lord, if I may ask?" said Draco, wondering why Voldemort was suddenly interested in the Ministry. He had just ignored it so far.  
  
"You may ask, for you must of course know. You will find out about the security on the building, what curses there are, how strong, and how much effort it will take for us to break them. And. . ."  
  
The monster smiled evilly.  
  
"You will make sure that Sirius Black will be there. We shall find out how much Potter still cares about him."  
  
Did this mean. . .  
  
"Yes, young Dragon. I will finally give up hiding and make sure that everybody knows what to expect from me. The Ministry will fall soon. Many people will fall with it. Good people. Important people. People who give those Mudbloods hope."  
  
"That is a brilliant plan, my Lord."  
  
"My plans, Draco, are always brilliant."  
  
"Of course, my Lord." responded Draco quickly.  
  
"And then we shall attack more and more and more. . . mudbloods and more mudbloods. . . they will be terrified of me. . . and do you know what they will do upon seeing that the Ministry is absolutely powerless?"  
  
"They will. . ."  
  
At that moment Draco Malfoy fully realised what his master's plan meant.  
  
"They will turn to Dumbledore, my Lord. They will turn their trust back to Dumbledore."  
  
"Exactly. And not only that. We will make them feel so unsafe at home that they will run to Hogwarts. . . hundreds of mudbloods. . . thousands of mudbloods in Hogwarts – the castle certainly is big enough. And then. . ."  
  
This maniac smile was back to the Dark Lord's face.  
  
"Then we will attack Hogwarts. We will kill Albus Dumbledore and all that dare to stand aside him. And, of course, those mudbloods. All will be out of our way. It is getting time, Draco. It is getting time for me and my followers to take over the world." 


	30. Chapter 29: Memories

Chapter 29: Memories  
  
Though Draco Malfoy had returned from the side of his "master" that night, it took him until morning to work up the courage to go up to the headmaster's office. Hermione would be there, he knew. And the others he had kidnapped. What should he say to them? "I'm sorry I got you tortured?" And what, pray tell, should he say to Hermione? It definitely wasn't the moment for a confession of love, and after everything he'd been forced to do to her and everything he'd been forced to watch er go through, he was sure that yes, he definitely was in love with her.  
  
He knocked.  
  
"Come in." sounded the headmaster's voice at once. Malfoy knew that the old man had known he was there as soon as he had passed the stone gargoyle, if not earlier.  
  
Malfoy slowly opened the door and walked in.  
  
A group of people was sitting around a big table in the middle of the room, having breakfast. The whole room looked a lot different than it had a day before – there were a Christmas tree and Christmas decorations all over the place. Trust Dumbledore to try to get your Christmas spirits up a day after a torture session with the Deatheaters.  
  
But indeed, Dumbledore's attempt seemed to have worked, for most of the present people had even looked a bit cheerful the moment before they had got a good glimpse at the man who Dumbledore had just allowed to enter the room.  
  
Now there was utter silence.  
  
"What are you doing here?" growled Lupin.  
  
Lupin looked a lot better than when Malfoy had last seen him – in the Dark Lord's captivity. Yes, they were all together, celebrating Christmas as if nothing had happened. Lupin, Finnigan, the Longbottoms, Ronny Longbottom's two young friends, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey, – his breath caught – Hermione, Snape. Potter was lying in a typical hospital bed, still unconscious, but now with his sneak around his neck. Somehow, Malfoy wasn't surprised.  
  
"I. . . I came to. . . to talk to you, in fact." he stated calmly.  
  
Finnigan snorted. "Talk! You. . . you dare face us again after. . . and you want to talk?"  
  
Malfoy looked at each of them. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly.  
  
Hermione was the only person there who didn't meet his gaze. She was looking down.  
  
He swallowed. "I wanted to tell you that I'm very sorry for. . . bringing you to the Dark Lord and. . . participating in. . . what was done to you." he said and his expression hardly betrayed any of the emotions he was feeling.  
  
There was silence.  
  
"So what do you say?" Malfoy said softly.  
  
Slowly, Neville Longbottom rose from his seat. "What we SAY?" he replied incredulously. "Well, what the HELL do you expect?" Neville's voice was growing louder and louder. "MY SON almost DIED because YOU brought him to the FUCKING EVILLEST WIZARD ON THE FUCKING PLANET and now you're. . . you're standing here saying "I'm very sorry, what do you say. . ." you know what I say, Malfoy? YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL NONE OF US HAS KILLED YOU YET. . ."  
  
Malfoy tensed but stood his ground. "Tell me anything I can do to make this up to you, and I will."  
  
"There is no making this up to us, Malfoy." said Ginny. Contrary to her husband, she was not yelling. She sounded very controlled, but very sad. "These four people will never forget what you did to them. They'll have nightmares about it for the rest of their lives. How do you think you can make that up to them? There is nothing you can do, no amount of money you can pay that can ever make undone what you did."  
  
Malfoy nodded miserably. They were right. There was no denying it. He had done something terrible and he wasn't sure if he could forgive himself for it. For any of it. For taking the ruddy Dark Mark. For everything it had done to him, and through him.  
  
"Hermione?" he whispered.  
  
No reaction.  
  
"Hermione? I'm so sorry, Hermione."  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"Please, let me know what you think. . ."  
  
Finally, she did look up.  
  
Her under lip was quivering and her tearful eyes displayed exactly what she was feeling. Malfoy could clearly see the mixture of anger and disappointment in her eyes, and pain so great that he wasn't sure it would ever leave her fully again. And he knew that he had caused all this.  
  
"Oh God, Hermione. . . God, I'm so sorry. . . I'm so sorry. . ."  
  
He couldn't help either his stammering or his own tears running over his face as he looked at what he had done to her. He slowly walked over to where she was sitting, not exactly aware of what he was doing.  
  
Hermione shrunk away, looking at him in horror. "Go AWAY!" she shrieked.  
  
He didn't.  
  
"I'm not going to harm you. I'm. . . I'm really sorry, Hermione. I'll never. . . never harm you again. . ."  
  
"No. . . go away. . ."  
  
"Hermione, please. . ."  
  
Lupin was suddenly standing in front of him and pressed his wand against Malfoy's breast, glaring. "She told you to go away, Malfoy, and that is exactly what you will do now." he said, his voice sounding oddly calm compared to his glaring eyes.  
  
"I didn't mean to. . ."  
  
Neville Longbottom sprang up from his seat as well: "Get OUT, Malfoy, before I MAKE YOU!!!"  
  
Then Dumbledore rose, laying a hand onto Longbottom's shoulder in order to calm him down.  
  
"Draco, I agree that you should better go now."  
  
Dumbledore. The other reason he had come. He knew about Voldemort's plan to attack the Ministry as soon as he, Malfoy, had got the knowledge how to deactivate the wards. He had to tell Dumbledore about that. Had to ask what he should do about it.  
  
"Headmaster, I need to talk to you."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "We must talk, Draco, but now is not the appropriate time, as you certainly see as well. I will see you as soon as these things are fixed, okay?"  
  
"But. . ."  
  
"There are matters that I need to take care of. We will talk afterwards."  
  
Malfoy snorted, than made his way out.  
  
He stopped shortly next to Neville Longbottom's seat.  
  
"Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas." he said, then left the room, with only Dumbledore and Snape wishing him a Merry Christmas in return.  
  
Dumbledore wasn't willing to listen to him earlier than "as soon as these things are fixed" – if he really meant by that explaining the four people's kidnapping and rescue to the Ministry and the press, that would take days. And that was too late.  
  
And that left him with no choice but to carry out the assignment he had been given.  
  
It was their own fault, really. He had wanted to help. They had rejected him.  
  
He smirked. Nobody had noticed him take a hair from the famous Auror's robes.  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
The Dark Lord smirked, too.  
  
"You had no problems getting her, Wormtail?"  
  
"N. . . no, my Lord." answered the rat, kneeling in front of its master.  
  
"And has she given you the information needed?"  
  
Voldemort could actually see the shiver go through his servant, and it amused him a lot.  
  
"My lord. . . I really tried everything, but she will not talk. . . I have used several means of torture. . ." the rat stammered.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
It took a minute for the rat to stop sobbing, even though the curse had only been held for a few seconds.  
  
"You are telling me, Wormtail," hissed the Dark Lord, "that you failed to get a simple girl to talk."  
  
Wormtail said nothing, which was wise, for there was nothing he could have said that would not have angered the Dark Lord and caused another Unforgivable to be caused.  
  
"Get her here, Wormtail. I want to see the woman that withstands your torture."  
  
"Y. . . yes, my Lord."  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
That afternoon, there was a private little Christmas celebration in the headmaster's office of Hogwarts school. There were not many people present: Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Severus Snape, Ginny, Neville and Ronny Longbottom, young Martin Whitby and Leon Creevey, Hermione Granger, Seamus Finnigan, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, who was, though, lying unconscious in a hospital bed a bit offside, and of course, the headmaster himself.  
  
Yes, Dumbledore had actually managed to bring up a little Christmas spirit among these people, a day after they had been rescued from Voldemort. That itself was a little wonder.  
  
Except for the rescuer, all were physically much better than they had been before.  
  
Mentally – well, no worse than to be expected. All had occasional flashbacks, sometimes talked over what had happened to them and cried over it. Though all had refused his offer to fetch a psychologist from St. Mungo's, saying that they'd be fine without.  
  
Ronny was the only victim that was really worrying Dumbledore – and everybody else, he knew, seeing the glimpses they all shot him occasionally. The boy was finally answering when questioned about something – but he had yet to resume starting to talk on his own. So far, he spoke neither to his parents nor to his friends, all of whom were constantly trying to cheer him up and engage him in conversations that would distract his thoughts from the torture – or whatever else it was that he was thinking about.  
  
In the middle of the dinner, the boy suddenly stood up and walked over to Harry Potter's bed, just looking at the man. His father followed and laid a hand onto his son's shoulder.  
  
"Harry doesn't look to good at the moment, does he?"  
  
Ronny didn't answer.  
  
Harry did indeed not look too good: He was extremely pale, his wounds were partly still healing, he was constantly having visions of the Dark Lord or normal nightmares, sometimes moaning, screaming, sweating. All in all very unwell.  
  
"Why did he save us?" asked Ronny suddenly. He spoke quietly, yet everybody heard him clearly, for all other conversations in the room had stopped.  
  
Neville thought that over for a moment. "I'm not sure what to answer you to that, son." He finally replied. "He knew where you were and he found himself the best person to get you out. And he was. Harry's always done that sort of thing - gotten himself into danger to save others. That's just the way he is. And, I think, the fact that Hermione was in danger played a big role there, too. Harry and Hermione have been best friends since our first year at school here."  
  
"So you're saying that he's a hero."  
  
Neville took some time to answer again. Then he said: "Yes, Harry Potter is definitely what I understand by a hero."  
  
At this, Ronny looked at him strangely. His expression was confused and angry. "But how," he exclaimed, "could a man who risks his own life for others, a true hero, kill his best friend and his best friend's parents?!!"  
  
There was a pause in which Neville realised that his son, Remus Lupin and Seamus Finnigan had still not been told the true story of Harry Potter.  
  
"And all the other murders he committed, after he fled from the Great Hall when you tried to arrest him! He killed several families of Muggles and wizards alike, cruelly, even little children, there was no day in which the newspaper was not full of Potter committing any terrible crime!!!"  
  
At this point, Dumbledore decided that it was time for him to interfere. He went over to his desk and picked a newspaper up, then gave it to Ronny. "Look at this, child."  
  
Ronny did. It was a Daily Prophet, three days old. His own picture was on the front page. "Ronny Longbottom is Potter's next victim!" screamed the headline. Underneath a long article about how Potter had supposedly made his way into the school and kidnapped the famous Auror's young son, how the "innocent child has probably already been slaughtered by Potter, the bloodthirsty monster". . .  
  
Ronny read what the Daily Prophet had to say and then just stared at it for a while. "But. . . but that's not true. . . non of that is true. . . it wasn't him! He didn't take me – he saved me! That's utter rubbish. . . what made them think. . ."  
  
"This article, Ronny, is a complete lie." explained the headmaster softly. "Just like every other article in which the Daily Prophet has accused Harry Potter of being a murderer, a kidnapper and so on."  
  
"Like every other article? Are you saying. . ."  
  
"Exactly. Harry didn't kill your uncle Ron and your grandparents."  
  
There was silence. Ronny looked confused.  
  
Lupin looked shocked. "But that. . . that can't be true! He was sentenced, there were proves! Ask Sirius!"  
  
Hermione snorted: "Sirius?! Sirius is the traitor here, Remus! He has never seen any proves – he just believed Fudge's word over Harry's."  
  
"Sirius would NEVER sentence anybody without proves, especially not his godson!" exclaimed Remus, "Potter did kill Ron, Arthur and Molly, can't you see that? You cannot just lock innocent people away in Azkaban! So don't you DARE accuse Sirius of being a traitor!"  
  
"It's happened before, you know." said Neville suddenly. "Harry wouldn't have been the first person innocently sentenced to Azkaban."  
  
"But especially Sirius wouldn't put a person there unless he was absolutely sure that they deserved it! Sirius has been there, he knows what it's like and he'd make sure the thing that happened to him wouldn't happen to anybody else ever again!" Remus practically yelled. Then, quieter, he added: "And if that's all you can say in his defence, I'm not going to doubt his guilt."  
  
Hermione was now getting seriously angry at Remus. How could a person be so narrow-minded?! "And what about the fact that he risked his life to save ours? He almost died there, Remus!" she snapped at him.  
  
"Perhaps he just went there to get you, Hermione? And saved us along so that Albus wouldn't do anything to him afterwards?"  
  
Hermione's face became extremely red. "REMUS! You. . ."  
  
"STOP THIS ARGUMENT!!!" shouted Dumbledore suddenly. There was silence. "Thank you. I do believe it is getting a bit out of hand." he added. "Now, I have an idea how we, Hermione, can prove our point to Remus easily."  
  
"How?"  
  
"By showing him the truth." said Dumbledore. Then he turned to Snape: "Harry does own a Pensieve, doesn't he? You wouldn't happen to know where he keeps it?"  
  
Snape's expression showed confusion which soon turned into anger. "Albus, you. . . You cannot actually want to go in there! And without his permission! That. . . that is invading Potter's privacy in a most insidious way! Breaking into the Pensieve of an unconscious man! I do most certainly not agree to this!!!"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Severus. . . look at it this way. Harry's condition is not too good, we'll have to keep him here for a day or two, perhaps longer. But we cannot keep the others prisoner here forever. And if anybody leaves this room with so much as a doubt that Harry Potter is a criminal and murderer, they will run straight to the Ministry of Magic, tell them his location, tell them who is helping him - and everything they now. And that, my friend, would be a true disaster. So I think that it is in Harry's interest as well that we make sure they know about his innocence – from a reliable source. A trip into Harry's Pensieve will certainly not be pleasant to him – nor to anybody else involved - but it is the safest way."  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"I see your point." said Snape finally. "And I agree to get his Pensieve for you. If you are sure you can handle it – I know he did some special charm on it, though I don't know what or what for."  
  
"I am confident that I'll be able to handle it and control the contents while we're in." the headmaster assured.  
  
"And if you promise that you won't abuse it."  
  
Albus smiled thinly. He wondered if Harry knew what a good and loyal friend he had found in Severus. "Yes, Severus, I promise that I will not abuse it."  
  
Snape nodded. "Alright."  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
Half an hour later.  
  
The Weasleys' place looked splendid. Perfect decorations for the perfect birthday party. Hermione's birthday party.  
  
Harry and Ron were sitting at a table. They were done with all preparations – it had taken them hours to set the place up and prepare dinner (with the help of Molly Weasley, of course). Now the two friends were just chatting happily, enjoying each other's company.  
  
"Potter doesn't look particularly murderous." Leon Creevey commented quietly.  
  
"No, he doesn't." agreed his friend Martin.  
  
As it had turned out, Harry Potter's Pensieve really wasn't a normal Pensieve. It had taken Dumbledore several minutes to break a charm designed to keep out people other than Harry, and they were now all feeling a bit guiltier for what they were doing, knowing Harry had taken much effort to prevent it.  
  
The other difference: Instead of standing on the ground watching what was happening, in Harry's Pensieve, people were transparent and floated in the air, above Harry and Ron – the ceiling of the house had vanished. Snape was getting annoyed by being unable to for more than a few metres, while Albus seemed to enjoy floating.  
  
In the end, they all had agreed to come and see the scenes – Albus, Minerva, Hermione, Snape, the Longbottoms, Martin and Leon, Finnigan, Madam Pomfrey (having decided that knowing about this might help her deal with her patient) and of course Lupin, who was the reason they were doing it anyway.  
  
Hermione looked utterly scared, knowing that she was about to see one of her best friends' cruel murder. Albus' twinkle had left his eye. Lupin looked smug, certain that he was about to prove that Potter really was the murderer of the Weasleys and that Sirius, though a git, was on the right side.  
  
"How's your training going, anyway?" asked Harry.  
  
Ron smiled. "It's fun, really, but. . ."  
  
"But?"  
  
"It's so hard!" Ron exclaimed. "They make you do your workout everyday, and spells and curses and everything, and then you come home, so exhausted that all you want in to fall into your bed and sleep, but no, you have to learn the laws!"  
  
Harry grinned. "I'm so glad I decided against becoming an Auror. . ."  
  
"Hey, there's always the advantage of kicking the evil gits' asses in the end!"  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
For a while, the two chatted about things: Ron's auror training, Harry's studies of wand-less magic, duelling and other fields of magic, old days in Hogwarts, old friends, Hermione's party and other things. They laughed, planned to go to the next Chudley Cannons game together, made joked about Fudge and Snape – generally had a good time.  
  
By the time they departed, Hermione was in tears. "They. . . they were so happy. . . look at Ron, he's laughing and joking, he'll be dead soon. . . and Harry. . ."  
  
McGonagall embraced her warmly and muttered soothing words.  
  
Harry made his way back over the Weasleys' front yard, walking to someplace outside the Apparation barrier. The others were still floating above his head.  
  
"It's about to start." said Snape quietly.  
  
Albus looked at him. "He told you his story, Severus?" asked the headmaster, looking surprised.  
  
Snape smiled grimly. "Yes he did. I was surprised, too, for it clearly wasn't easy for him to talk about it. I think he did it because he wanted me to trust him. Anyway. . . if it was like he described, it won't be fun to look at, either."  
  
And it happened as Harry had said.  
  
He had gone for a few hundred metres (the Anti-Apparation wards had recently been enlarged) when suddenly – out of nowhere, it seemed – dozens of Deatheaters appeared, from every direction. Harry gasped. "What the hell. . ."  
  
Then he was hit by a curse. Cruciatus.  
  
Hermione's loud wails could not even be heard over Harry's terrible screams – Martin and Leon, who had never before seen (and heard) a Cruciatus Curse on a human, just stared at the man who was writhing on the ground in pain and screaming his lungs out. Some of the adults had tears running down their faces. Ronny's eyes were again looking empty. He knew exactly what that felt like.  
  
'No. . . no, no, no, no. . . stop. . . STOP. . .' came a voice, like a whisper, over the noise – as if it was in their heads.  
  
"Did you hear that?" shouted Snape. He was not heard.  
  
'Ron. . . they'll get to Ron. . . Molly and Arthur. . . they'll kill them!'  
  
With astonishment and dread, Snape realised that these were Potter's very thoughts. He was hearing his friend's thoughts during one of the worst events of his life!  
  
'Stop. . . I must stop them. . . I must stop this pain. . . stop. . . STOP!!!'  
  
As suddenly as they had begun, the screams stopped. Harry bolted upright and was standing on his feet in an incredible time, the curse still on him.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
The curse ended as the Deatheater fell.  
  
Harry slowly walked over to him and pulled his mask off.  
  
'Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy.'  
  
For a moment, he just stared at the man.  
  
'I just withstood a Cruciatus Curse. I just beat it. That's supposed to be impossible. But I just. . .'  
  
"OH MY GOD, ARTHUR, IT'S THEM!!! ARTHUR!!!"  
  
It was Molly Weasley.  
  
Harry blinked. Then he started to run. Fast. And to scream. He was in absolute panic.  
  
"NO!!! Leave them alone! It's me you want! LEAVE THEM ALONE!!!" he yelled, over and over again, until he reached the house.  
  
He kicked the front door open.  
  
"RON!!! RON, WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU!!!"  
  
But there never was an answer.  
  
Harry ran. Kitchen, dining-room, living-room.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"WHERE ARE YOU?!"  
  
He went to make his way up the stairs but stopped. There was a body. A body on the middle of the stairs.  
  
It was Ron.  
  
"RON!" he yelled.  
  
Ron didn't answer.  
  
Ron didn't even move.  
  
Harry leaned over him.  
  
"No. . . oh no. . . you can't do this to me, Ron. . . you can't. . . Ron, come on, mate. . ."  
  
Tears were running down Harry's face.  
  
"Ron. . ."  
  
He cast several reviving curses. None worked. Ron still didn't move. And Harry knew that it was hopeless.  
  
"Ron. . ." he sobbed, "I'm so. . . I'm so sorry. . ."  
  
Gently, he closed his dead friend's eyes, which were frozen in shock, with his fingers. Then he made his way further up the stairs.  
  
Both Arthur and Molly Weasley were lying in the upper floor.  
  
Harry tried what he had cast on Ron. Again there was no reaction.  
  
'They're dead.' he thought. 'They're all dead. . . because of me. . . they'll be gone forever. . .'  
  
Harry fell to his knees hand hid his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably, as it slowly sunk in what had just happened.  
  
He didn't even notice the man who was slowly walking up from behind until he spoke: "You're not looking very heroic at the moment, Potter. Are you. . . not feeling well?" sneered the Deatheater.  
  
Harry bolted around and stared at the man, or rather rat, who had betrayed his parents and ruined his whole life in the process.  
  
Before he could react, a beam of light came out of the silver hand and hit him, and everything went black.  
  
**  
  
They were all crying, some harder than others. Hermione the hardest. She was sobbing in Minerva's arms, while Minerva was shaking with tears herself.  
  
"That was so. . . so. . ."  
  
"I know, Hermione. I know. . ."  
  
"I won't. . . ever be able to forget. . . these pictures. . ."  
  
"None of us will, Hermione."  
  
"I hate them all. . . You-Know-Who. . . and Pettigrew. . . and. . . and Fudge and Black. . ."  
  
Remus Lupin interfered there: "We have not yet seen Sirius' part in. . ."  
  
"Come on, Lupin!" sneered Snape, "Do you see a way in which Black could be innocent?"  
  
". . ."  
  
**  
  
Harry opened his eyes. Then he looked around slowly.  
  
He was lying on the ground of a cell. There were three aurors outside, glaring at him and pointing their wands at him.  
  
How odd.  
  
"He's awake!" one shouted.  
  
Harry blinked. He didn't understand. "What's going on?" he asked.  
  
The oldest auror sneered. "Pretending ignorance won't help you, Potter. You'll pay for this." spat the man. "You were found at the scene."  
  
Harry blinked again.  
  
Then it came back to him. "No. . ." he whispered, "Oh no. . . Ron. . . Molly, Arthur. . ."  
  
He started crying again.  
  
He didn't even look up when the aurors unlocked the door of the cell and came in.  
  
'They're dead. . . they're dead because they were my friends. . .' he thought.  
  
One of the aurors spat at him. "STOP WAILING, TRAITOR!"  
  
'They're gone forever. . . I'll never see them again. . .'  
  
"ARE YOU LISTENING?" he yelled and kicked him in the stomach. Harry groaned in pain.  
  
'Hermione will be so sad. . . her birthday is spoiled. . .'  
  
Another auror kicked at him. "YOU'LL GET WHAT YOU DESERVE, MURDERER!"  
  
Harry curled up in a tight ball.  
  
'Her birthday is spoiled? Ha. . . her whole life is screwed!'  
  
He was pulled up from the ground forcefully. The aurors were getting frustrated by his lack of reaction. Two held him up while the third beat him and kicked him and hit his head against the wall. Over and over again.  
  
This went on for minutes.  
  
Then another auror came. "We are to escort him to the Minister's office." he said.  
  
They did.  
  
Once there, they knocked, then opened the door and pushed Harry in so hard that he fell to the floor. Then they left, guarding the door from outside.  
  
Both the Minister and Mr Black were, after all, easily able to defend themselves from a wand-less man.  
  
Harry slowly stood up. Blood was running down from where his head had hit the wall so often, and he was full of bruises and in a lot of pain. Then he spotted his godfather, who he considered one of his best friends at the same time.  
  
"Sirius!" he sobbed and stumbled over as fast as he could and hugged the man fiercely. "Sirius. . ."  
  
Harry was relieved beyond words.  
  
'Sirius is here!' he thought, 'Sirius will help me. He'll get me out of here soon. Sirius understands. It will all be over in a minute. Sirius is here. Sirius. . .'  
  
For a moment, Sirius didn't react, totally astonished. Then he pushed Harry away as hard as he could.  
  
Harry fell to the ground once again.  
  
"Sirius. . . what. . ."  
  
Sirius Black's eyes were shining with pure hatred.  
  
Fudge called the aurors in. "Make sure he doesn't try anything again!"  
  
Harry was picked up from the ground and two aurors seized his arms.  
  
"So you've been one of them all the time, Potter?" accused Sirius, "That's your way to thank your parents for all they did for you?"  
  
"What are you all talking about!" yelled Harry, confused and scared. Did they really think. . .  
  
"They're all dead, Potter!" shouted Sirius back, "Are you happy now? You killed half of the Weasleys and I don't want to know how many others before that were never proved! Cornelius told me everything, Potter! I. . . I can't believe I ever trusted you."  
  
"BUT I DIDN'T KILL ANYBODY!!!"  
  
"WE KNOW THE TRUTH, MURDERER, STOP LYING!!! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!!!"  
  
Harry was starting to panic. 'He doesn't believe me. . . Oh God. . . even Sirius doesn't believe me. . .'  
  
"But I really didn't. . ."  
  
"SHUT UP!!! It's no use lying, Potter, Cornelius told me. Everything. How you've been suspected of Dark activity for months. I know about the many dead of whose murders you've always been suspected but it couldn't be proved. And I know how. . . how you killed Ron when he refused to join you! You've betrayed all of us Potter. . . all of us. . . Why? I mean. . . what did it get you? And. . . why do you. . . hate us so much?"  
  
Sirius' speech had started with him angry and hateful and ended with him being close to tears.  
  
"Sirius. . . what the hell are you talking about? I did none of what you just said. . ."  
  
"FUCKING STOP DENYING IT, YOU'RE ONLY MAKING THINGS WORSE, POTTER!"  
  
Fudge slowly walked over to the trembling Sirius and embraced him. Fudge. That git embraced Harry's godfather. Sirius let himself be embraced by Fudge. Sirius let himself be embraced by Fudge while he pushed Harry away. Harry was angry, confused - desperate. Tears started to flow again.  
  
"SIRIUS!!!" he shouted, "I GIVE YOU MY WORD THAT I DIDN'T EVER KILL ANYBODY!" Then, quieter: "Please! Please believe me, Sirius! I didn't do it!"  
  
Sirius didn't listen.  
  
Fudge gave him a piece of parchment, which he signed and then showed to Harry. He looked sad while he did this.  
  
"This will set things straight, Potter. Goodbye." he said softly.  
  
Harry was dragged out of the room.  
  
"SIRIUS! I'M INNOCENT!!!"  
  
But Sirius ignored him.  
  
"SIRIUS, HELP ME! SIRIUS!!!"  
  
Harry's screams could be heard for long as he was dragged through the Ministry building.  
  
At some point, he fainted.  
  
He woke up in Azkaban.  
  
It was less than a minute later that a dementor came by, stopped by Harry and enjoyed itself feeding off his emotions.  
  
He heard his mother scream and beg Voldemort for mercy.  
  
He heard Voldemort telling Wormtail to "kill the spare".  
  
He heard himself shouting at the Deatheaters not to kill the Weasleys while he ran back to the house.  
  
The people in the Pensieve heard this, just like his thoughts, like quiet voices in their heads.  
  
Dumbledore pulled them out of it as fast as he could.  
  
** +++++ **  
  
They were all back in the headmaster's office a moment later. After the horrors they had just witnessed, the calmness of the room seemed ridiculing.  
  
Nobody said the thing; everybody was busy regaining their composure.  
  
Fawkes the phoenix, sensing their troubled emotions, started to sing one of his songs. It helped a lot.  
  
Madame Pomfrey immediately walked over to Harry. His condition had not changed. But at the moment, he didn't seem to have a nightmare or vision. He was lying still and breathing regularly.  
  
The first words that were spoken came, surprisingly, from Remus. They came in a whisper.  
  
"I can't believe he just condemned him to a life in. . . in this place. . . because Fudge. . . just because Fudge. . ."  
  
Albus answered: "I wouldn't have expected such. . . naïve behaviour and sheer stupidity from Sirius either, Remus. We can just hope that he regains his sense at some point, before it's too late. If it isn't already. . ."  
  
"We should tell him. . ."  
  
"We've told him all we knew more than once." said Hermione sadly and angrily. "But he won't let go off his believe that Fudge is a saint."  
  
Remus said nothing.  
  
He had to try to convince Sirius of the truth. He owed that to Harry. And Sirius, even after everything he had done, deserved to know, so that he had the chance to make it up. Whether that was possible was an entirely different question.  
  
They discussed what they had seen. For over an hour. Albus explained most of it, though he was not the only one who knew. Most of it was about the relationship of Sirius and Harry.  
  
How Harry had managed to free his Godfather from the veil after months of research alone in the library, how he had spectacularly caught Wormtail snooping on Hogwarts' grounds, freeing Sirius, how Sirius and he had become good friends.  
  
And then he told them how Sirius had started to get more and more depressed because he still had no job, and how Fudge, who had before apologised profusely for the wrongful imprisonment, had helped him to his feet, employed him in the Ministry, trusted him with important positions.  
  
How Sirius had finally begun to feel needed again and begun to feel that he owed all his happiness to Fudge.  
  
Ronny, Martin and Leo listened carefully. They finally understood the mystery that was their former DADA teacher and had come close to be a real friend to them. Now they knew how it was possible that a man who had always been so fair, loyal, helpful. . . well, nice, could turn out to be a cruel mass murderer.  
  
The simple answer was that it wasn't true.  
  
"There is no reason to wait any longer." announced Albus a while after they had talked it all over. "Your most serious injuries have been treated and you no longer endanger Harry by going back to your lives. There is no reason to delay announcing your rescue to the public."  
  
Nobody disagreed. They all longed to go back to their normal lives – as normal as they were in those days.  
  
"Under the conditions that you let us know when Harry wakes up and that you let us see him." said Neville. "Personally, I have some things to say to him."  
  
"So do I." said his son.  
  
Albus smiled. "Yes, that should be no problem." Then his smile vanished. "And now listen: You must not tell anybody where Harry is. It could cost him his life or worse, his soul. If you want to tell them what you saw, that is fine with me – I doubt that anybody will believe you, but I do not see how it can harm, except perhaps for people thinking that you are crazy. . . but that is your choice. Though I repeat: Do not tell his whereabouts!"  
  
As he said this, he looked pointedly at Remus.  
  
Remus nodded.  
  
"Good. That is settled then."  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
The door with the sign "Percy Weasley – Head of Security" opened and shut as a man entered the room.  
  
"You wanted to see me, Neville?" said Percy, smiling grimly. His brother in law had taken the kidnapping of his son very badly. Well, who would not. They didn't even know if Ronny – or the other kidnapped – were still alive. Percy wondered what Neville wanted from him.  
  
"Yes. I'd like to know about the charms and spells on the Ministry headquarters. You see, I. . . I'm worrying, with Potter on the loose. . . since we know what he is capable of. . ."  
  
Percy nodded, his eyes shining with sympathy. So Neville was distracting himself by throwing himself into work. Well, if it helped. . .  
  
"I agree, these are very dark times. But you really needn't worry about any Ministry buildings. They're all very well guarded, especially the headquarters. Even Potter won't come through them without the specific knowledge of how the charms can be broken, which he cannot get from any books. Only very few people know it, and Potter cannot find out. The Ministry buildings are as secure as anything, Neville."  
  
"But they can be broken? How? Perhaps I'll be able to do something to help. . ."  
  
"There's no help needed, Neville. And anyway!" he said, smiling grimly, "You know I can't tell you how to break through the wards, Neville! I'd be punished severely! But you really needn't worry about –"  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
Percy's face displayed shock as he fell, stunned by his own brother-in-law.  
  
The 'Neville' figure pulled Percy into a sitting position against the wall, opened his mouth and poured three drops of Veritaserum into it.  
  
"Enervate!"  
  
Percy's eyes opened, his look was glassy.  
  
"And now, Weasley," spat the other person, "Tell me how to break through the Ministry's security wards, and how long it would take."  
  
"Several complex curses and charms need to be cast for breaking through them," he said in a monotone voice, "and I don't know all of them by heard. They are written down in a file which is lying in the uppermost drawer of my desk. There are also passwords which simplify the process a great deal. I think that with this file, the wards can be broken down completely within a few hours."  
  
'Neville' smirked. "Why, thank you, Weasley, you are of great assistance here."  
  
He walked over to the man's desk. The uppermost drawer wouldn't open.  
  
"Password, Weasley?"  
  
"Discipline"  
  
The drawer sprang open.  
  
'Neville' snorted at the odd choice of password. "Thank you Weasley."  
  
There was nothing in it but a thick file. He smirked as he skipped through it.  
  
"This looks just what I looked for, Weasley, thank you. IMPERIO!"  
  
Percy blinked. His eyes lost their glassy look.  
  
"You will not tell anybody that I have been here, what I have done or what we talked about – you will act as though nothing had happened. You will give Sirius Black a fire-call and make sure that he will be here for a conference about the Ministry security, a week from today, at five in the afternoon. . . and tell him to bring as many men as possible. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Percy had lost his fight against the curse so far.  
  
"Good. I will see you later, I'm sure."  
  
**  
  
+++++ **  
  
END CHAPTER!!!  
  
I hope you enjoyed it.  
  
Happy Easter, everybody! 


	31. Chapter 30: Caught

Chapter 30: Caught  
  
Although it was past lunch time, Sirius Black was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling.  
  
He wondered what Remus was doing at the moment. Was he screaming under a Cruciatus Curse, or did Potter prefer Muggle torturing methods? Was Remus now wondering what was taking the aurors so long? Was he thinking about how he, Sirius, had told him to leave him alone? Had rejected him?  
  
Or, perhaps, had Potter already killed him? But Potter wouldn't be so merciful. . .  
  
Sirius had sent hundreds of men – his best men – to search for Potter. He had left the castle with as few security people as he could take responsibility for and sent the rest to look for the kidnapped. Yet – there was no sign of either Potter or Remus, or the other victims.  
  
And Sirius had not felt more guilty since his stay in Azkaban, plagued by the Dementors.  
  
Remus Lupin, his friend from childhood on, good old Moony, who had always helped him as best as he could, who had been a true friend, although Sirius had for long been too blind to see it – was now in the hands of the cruellest person on earth. . . except perhaps for Voldemort, but Voldemort had done nothing in years. . . Potter was now the worst.  
  
And the last thing he had said to Remus was a more polite version of "You're not good enough to be my friend anymore and you're getting on my nerves, so piss off".  
  
Sirius had sworn to himself that if he ever saw Remus again, he'd apologise and make up for months. . . perhaps years. . . of being a git to his friend.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his front door (magically made louder so that it could easily be heard everywhere in the apartment).  
  
Sighing, he got up and answered the door.  
  
It was Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore." Sirius greeted him, surprised. What would Dumbledore want from him in that day? He wouldn't just come over to have a chat and some tea. . .  
  
"Sirius. We need to talk. May I come in?"  
  
They sat down in the living room, facing each other.  
  
"Just spill it already." whispered the Deputy Minister. "What's the news? Did he write a letter or something? Or send a body?"  
  
"Neither. First of all, Sirius, I must admit that I and. . . my people. . . took action against the kidnapper on our own."  
  
Sirius jumped to his feet. "ARE YOU MAD? Do you have any idea how much you endanger them by your stupidity? You. . . you. . . you fool! Doing things on your own! If Potter gets wind of anything, he'll. . ."  
  
He paused. Why had Dumbledore told him? Now that he'd already started 'taking action against the kidnapper'?  
  
"Dumbledore, you didn't. . . did anything go wrong?"  
  
"Actually, yes. . . but nothing concerning the hostages. They're all fine."  
  
Sirius blinked. "W. . . what?" he whispered, "You mean they're actually. . ."  
  
"Alive and well, yes."  
  
"And Remus. . ."  
  
"Remus, too. All of them. They suffered a lot, of course. I don't know if any of them will ever fully recover emotionally. But they're as well as the conditions allow."  
  
Sirius fell back into his armchair, exhaling shakily. Immense relief was written all over his face. "So it's over." he whispered, "It's finally over. . ." He looked down to the floor, his eyes glistening with tears. "Albus, I. . . I think I've never been more afraid in my life. . ."  
  
There was a minute of comfortable silence.  
  
"And Potter? Did you catch him?"  
  
Albus considered telling the truth – that Harry was not the kidnapper, but the saviour. He decided against it. He'd told Sirius this so often, to no avail.  
  
"No, we didn't."  
  
Sirius nodded.  
  
"Good. I. . . I must see Remus. Where is he?"  
  
"In the hospital wing."  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §   
  
When Sirius entered the room, everybody looked at him.  
  
Everybody were Hermione, Seamus Finnigan, Ronny Longbottom with his parents and closest friends – so they had already been informed – and, of course, Remus.  
  
Remus looked as bad as the others did. He was pale and there was a long, fresh scar running down his cheek and onto his neck. His eyes were filled with pain and sadness. At least they weren't empty, Sirius thought.  
  
Remus sat up from his chair and walked over until they were standing in front of each other.  
  
Sirius opened his mouth.  
  
He wanted to apologise. To say that he was sorry for ignoring Remus for so long. For doing nothing to keep up their friendship. For telling him that he didn't want him for a friend. For being such a git. And finally, Sirius wanted to tell Remus that he was a good, a very good friend, that he, Sirius, cared very much about him, that he desperately wanted him in his life again.  
  
But he didn't find the words to express any of this.  
  
"Remus. . . Remus, I. . . my God, Remus. . ."  
  
Then Remus embraced him, holding him tightly, with all strength he had.  
  
They both started to cry simultaneously.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §   
  
Snape looked at Potter's sweating face with sadness.  
  
"When do you think he'll wake up?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I think the same as an hour ago, Severus. It could be a couple of hours, or a couple of days. Or never, but that is very unlikely."  
  
Snape pursed his lips. "And you cannot do anything against these. . . visions?"  
  
"I know nothing that works against them and neither does anybody I know. Nothing. Not even dark magic can help there." said Dumbledore suddenly. He'd stepped up from behind.  
  
Potter moaned loudly and started to struggle, then the moan became a scream, catching the attention of everybody present.  
  
"Bad one" commented Snape.  
  
Even the snake, Sammy, started sliding up and down on Potter's bed, hissing fast.  
  
"What is he doing to you now, Harry?" whispered Dumbledore, looking grim.  
  
% % %  
  
The Cruciatus stopped.  
  
"You know I will stop this immediately once you talk, girl, do you not?"  
  
Lying in front of Voldemort was a young woman of 21 years, sobbing, wishing for death to claim her, but refusing to give up the secret that she held.  
  
"My Lord, why don't you just use some Veritaserum to. . ."  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
Voldemort was getting annoyed at this man, too. Macnair. Excellent torturer and executioner – unfortunately the things he sometimes said made people doubt his intelligence.  
  
"Because, Macnair, this way we won't be wasting valuable Veritaserum on her. Veritaserum is rare, especially since Severus is. . . no longer available."  
  
"Of course. . . of course, my Lord."  
  
Then Voldemort turned his attention back to the girl, who was still sobbing. He smirked.  
  
"Still not talking, young beauty?"  
  
She glared at him. "I'd rather. . . die. . . than betray. . . my patients. . . you. . . you MONSTER!!!"  
  
The next curse came flying her way. Then the Dark Lord got another idea. He hadn't used this method in a while. But it might work.  
  
"Macnair!"  
  
"Yes my Lord?"  
  
"I like the way you're proceeding with this girl. You're doing your job very well."  
  
Macnair blinked, not knowing how to react. Compliments by Voldemort were extremely rare among Deatheaters. "Th. . . thank you, my Lord"  
  
"I have decided to reward you."  
  
"But. . ." Macnair was now very confused. "But she hasn't even started to speak yet. . ."  
  
"Do you doubt my decisions?"  
  
"N. . . no, of course not, my Lord! Never, my lord!" stammered the Deatheater.  
  
"Good. I have decided that you may have her."  
  
"Have her?!" exclaimed Macnair. "As in. . ."  
  
"Yes" hissed Voldemort. "Have her. Or don't you want her?"  
  
That was not something the man had to think over very thoroughly. She was a very beautiful girl. Very beautiful. "Yes, I do want her, my Lord."  
  
% % %  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
Sirius and Remus had taken place in Sirius' living-room, exactly where he and Dumbledore had sat not long ago.  
  
Sirius had had a house-elf bring them coffee and some cake, and now that Remus had finally managed to make him stop apologising, neither of them knew what to say. Sirius wasn't sure if it was wise to talk to Remus about his captivity and torture, but that was all he could think about, and he doubted that Remus had anything else on his mind at the time – so shortly after their rescue.  
  
In the end, the Deputy Minister decided to approach carefully.  
  
"Do you. . . do you want to talk about it, Remus?"  
  
Remus closed his eyes. "It would probably be better.", he whispered, "Though I already talked a bit with. . . well, with Albus. . . and the others, of course. Hermione, Seamus and Ronny. But you should hear it as well."  
  
Sirius waited while his friend took a few deep breaths.  
  
"It was the worst thing that ever happened to me, Sirius. The worst thing by far. It's a small wonder we're still alive and sane. It was hell. I. . . they used everything, Sirius. Whips, knifes, Cruciatus Curses. I'm not sure if they raped Hermione or not. They didn't have mercy on the boy either. And all the time, we had no idea what they wanted from us. We didn't know why. They. . ."  
  
"They?" interrupted Sirius, who had gone a bit pale. "What 'they' are you talking about? So Potter had helpers?"  
  
Remus eyes, which he had held shut during his talk, shot open.  
  
"I thought. . . I thought Albus had told you. . . he told you nothing?"  
  
Sirius blinked. "What didn't he tell me?" he asked, honestly confused.  
  
Remus smiled, then his smile faded again. "It wasn't Harry who kidnapped us."  
  
"Not?"  
  
"No. It were Deatheaters. And Vol. . . and You-Know-Who. It was them. Harry had nothing to do with it."  
  
Sirius swallowed. "Really."  
  
It was one of the saddest moments of his life. Remus, one of his very best friends, was mentally unstable. It must be because of the shock he had got during the torture. Or perhaps Potter had manipulated him. Who knew? That murderer was not only powerful in the magical sense, he was also cunning. Who knew what his plans were.  
  
"Yes. In fact, it was him who rescued us from them. He risked his life to save us, Sirius! And not only that!"  
  
Remus suddenly stood up and glared down at Sirius, who didn't understand what he'd done wrong.  
  
"You bloody FOOL sentenced him to Azkaban with no proves!" he suddenly yelled.  
  
Sirius flinched, astonished at this sudden outbreak of anger.  
  
"Of course there were proves, Remus. I told you. . ."  
  
"No! You LIED, Sirius! You LIED TO ME!!! I know the truth now! I know more of the truth than you do!!! He is innocent, Sirius! He didn't kill them! He's innocent!"  
  
"I. . . Remus, I don't understand why you suddenly. . ."  
  
"I saw his memories, Sirius! I saw it all in his Pensieve, Dumbledore showed it to us! You SIGNED THAT BLOODY THING WITH NOTHING MORE THAN FUDGE'S WORD!!! And Fudge is, as everybody knows, a bloody liar! You sentenced him, Sirius! It's your fault!!!"  
  
Sirius thoughts were racing.  
  
Remus was absolutely convinced that Potter was innocent. So Potter really had hexed him. Potter was using Remus to make people think he was innocent. And perhaps he was using Hermione, Seamus Finnigan and Ronny, too. And who knew who else he had on his side. Remus had said that Dumbledore had showed them Potter's Pensieve. Was Dumbledore working for Potter? Or was that just an illusion that Potter had created? Who could he trust anymore?  
  
Potter would pay. For kidnapping, torturing and using his friend.  
  
For everything.  
  
Perhaps, thought Sirius, he could use Potter's plan against him. Perhaps he had told Remus anything useful.  
  
Sirius decided to play along.  
  
"Are you sure?" he whispered, trying to appear shocked. "Is he really. . . is he really innocent?"  
  
Remus sighed in relief. Finally Sirius understood.  
  
"I'm absolutely sure, mate."  
  
Sirius buried his face in his hands. "Oh my God. . . he was innocent all the time. . . what did I do. . . oh no. . ."  
  
Remus sighed. For a while they just sat like that, shaking a bit.  
  
"Perhaps it's not too late, Sirius. Perhaps he'll forgive you. You should apologise to him as soon as possible."  
  
Sirius slowly looked up. "You mean. . . you know where he is?"  
  
Remus nodded. "I do. But I can't tell anybody. But I think I could pass a message for you."  
  
"Remus, I. . . I must do this face to face!" he said, sounding desperate. "This is not something I can tell in a letter, you must understand that!"  
  
Remus sighed. "Promise me that you'll never tell anybody, Sirius. Nobody. You never know who to trust in these day."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"He's in Dumbledore's office, being treated by Madam Pomfrey. He's very weak. You-Know-Who hurt him a lot. You should wait for him to recover a bit until you. . . Sirius?"  
  
Sirius had stood up and made his way to the fireplace fast.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Sirius then threw some floopowder in. "Kingsley Shacklebolt" he said.  
  
"SIRIUS!" shouted Remus. Only then did Sirius turn around. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, SIRIUS?!"  
  
The werewolf raised his wand.  
  
Sirius was faster. Remus fell, stunned with a quick "Stupefy".  
  
"Black, that you?"  
  
"Shacklebolt. Hello. You must gather the ten. . . no, twenty best men that we have, and bring them to my place. Via floonetwork. And count Neville Longbottom out."  
  
Shacklebolt looked confused. "Why all this, if I may ask?"  
  
Sirius smirked. "We've got Potter's location. If my information is right, he's weak, but, Dumbledore is with him, and Pomfrey, though she shouldn't be a problem at all. Potter's going down today, my friend."  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
Dumbledore made his way back to the hospital wing. Severus and Poppy were still with Harry, and there was nothing they could do for him, so he could as well have a look at Hermione, Ronny, Remus and Seamus Finnigan. And see how Sirius reacted to seeing them.  
  
He was not really surprised when, upon his arrival, Hermione told him that Remus and Sirius had left for Sirius' apartment. He only hoped that the two could fix things between them. And that Remus wouldn't give anything away. But he was certain that showing him Harry's memories had made sure of that.  
  
And then he felt it.  
  
It was a magical alarm he had fixed a very long time ago. It was telling him now that intruders had passed the stone gargoyle and were heading for his office.  
  
His office, where Harry was.  
  
He had not locked the door.  
  
Without a word, he turned around and ran.  
  
"Albus, what. . ."  
  
He didn't look back.  
  
On his way, Dumbledore felt one more magical 'pull'. They had entered his office.  
  
When the old man finally arrived at the scene, panting hard, most of it was over.  
  
The group of aurors had disarmed and stunned both Poppy and Severus, and about ten men were pointing their wands at the unconscious Harry.  
  
Dumbledore was shocked. They had Harry. They'd throw him back into Azkaban immediately. Severus, too. And they might sentence Poppy, too, for helping a convict. It was all lost.  
  
Because of this shock, the headmaster was too slow to react when about fifteen 'Stupefy' curses were hurled at him simultaneously. They all caught him.  
  
He fell to the ground.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
When Harry finally regained consciousness, the first thing he saw were bars. He blinked. Looked a bit like a cell. A ministry cell.  
  
The second thing he saw was, behind the bars, the smirking face of auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. A friend of Sirius Black's. The kind of auror who would sometimes let their anger and frustration out of the criminals sitting in Azkaban.  
  
"Surprise, Potter!" hissed the man.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
Cornelius Fudge paced – up and down and up and down – in the large study and library of his manor. His thoughts had not been so troubled for a very long time.  
  
Several minutes ago, an informant – one of his most trusted man – had told him that Black had caught Potter.  
  
And that the kidnapped were back and claimed that Potter had rescued them from the Dark Lord.  
  
That was probably true, Fudge knew. And it was also dangerous information. Extremely dangerous to him.  
  
He had to get Potter locked up immediately. Or better still: kissed by a Dementor. The situation had to be solved as soon as possible – before it got out of hand.  
  
If anybody questioned Potter's status as a convicted mass murderer – if anybody listened to what the kidnapped claimed, and got suspicious, and wanted proves. . . it would be the end of him. His power. His position. Probably also his freedom.  
  
Fudge had to keep it all not only from the public, but also from Sirius Black and his people.  
  
And that was now getting harder than ever.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
A day later.  
  
That day, Diagon Alley in London did not only serve as a shopping street, but also as a meeting point.  
  
People were chatting in big crowds, loudly, happily, confidently. They felt safe again.  
  
Harry Potter, infamous murderer, had been caught.  
  
The people he had kidnapped had been rescued by the Ministry – not seriously injured, it had been said. Though the victims had not yet spoken to any reporters. Neither had, in fact, the Ministry representatives, except for telling them that the man had been caught and giving them a photo of an unconscious Potter in a cell. This photo could now be seen everywhere.  
  
When Hermione Granger used the "Sonorus" charm on herself, she immediately got all the attention that she needed.  
  
She was standing on the flat roof of one of the shops. And not alone.  
  
"Witches and wizards!" she said, no louder than usually, but everybody heard her perfectly.  
  
The whole street stared up at them, whispering, pointing. Everybody recognised them easily from the photos in the papers.  
  
Among these people were the four that Potter had kidnapped.  
  
"We are standing here", continued Hermione, "to tell you the truth. The real truth, not what the Ministry is feeding you. We have come to tell you who Harry Potter really is. He is not a murderer, contrary to what you all think. He is a hero. And we owe our lives to him."  
  
In the street, people had gone quiet with shock. And understandably. This person was telling them that everything that they had been told in the last years was false.  
  
This person was a victim of Potter's.  
  
People were confused.  
  
And then Hermione Granger started to talk. About being kidnapped, about the Dark Lord and his Deatheaters, torture, curses. And then about Harry Potter coming to rescue them, getting them out, being caught himself, escaping seriously injured. And then they said what they had seen in the man's Pensieve. The whole truth. And the people listened, not saying a word, looking shocked. Nearby reporters were recording every word spoken.  
  
When, in the middle of their speech, a couple of Ministry workers tried to stop them, Neville Longbottom managed to stun them all. The people in the street didn't stop him.  
  
"And now I ask you, will you accept your government imprisoning or worse, killing this man, Harry Potter, and not do anything about this?" yelled Lupin finally.  
  
"NO!!!" roared the crowd back.  
  
Hermione stared at her friend, surprised and a bit amused. Who knew Remus Lupin could speak like that?  
  
"Then show it! Demonstrate against the sloppiness, the evilness of the Ministry of Magic! Make them show proves of what they are claiming! Because if you let them proceed in their ways and look away. . ."  
  
He paused. Then, quieter, he added: "Then the fate of Harry Potter will be as much your fault as it is theirs."  
  
There was utter silence for a while.  
  
Some single figures started to yell: "You're right, man!", "We want proves!", "There must be a proper trial!"  
  
Soon, the whole crowd was cheering again.  
  
Then the aurors arrived. A whole crowd of them. Hermione was surprised how long it had taken for them to be informed.  
  
Before any of the men reached them, the whole group had disappeared again, using portkeys.  
  
And Diagon Alley was only the first of many places where they held this speech.  
  
And the effect was huge.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
Sirius Black looked down at the crowd in front of him.  
  
The press conference had several similarities to the last one the Ministry had held – when Potter had started kidnapping people. There were hundreds of people – reporters and private people from all over the world – looking up at him and the aurors around him (a security measure) expectantly. Again, the people were so many that the press conference held place outside of the Ministry headquarters.  
  
But this time, Black didn't feel uneasy. He felt confident and smug. They'd had a huge success.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen", he started, "We have come together here to talk about the circumstances of the capture of Harry Potter and the rescue of his latest victims. I'd like to start by telling you that yes, Potter is safely under control and there is no way in which he can escape from our high security cells. You needn't worry about him ever running loose again.  
  
Many of the reporters had their hands in the air already and Black decided that he could as well get it over with. He pointed to one of them, allowing her to speak.  
  
"In the last days, the people who Potter has supposedly kidnapped, namely, Hermione Granger, Ronny Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan and Remus Lupin have held open speeches, saying that Potter didn't kidnap them, but save them from the Dark Lord. What do you say to that?"  
  
Black sighed.  
  
"Aah, yes. Well, they are obviously very confused. Potter held them for several days, and we all know what he is capable of. Who knows what terrible curses he cast on them? What Dark Magic he used on them? He is manipulating them. That is the only explanation that we, the Ministry, have for the behaviour of those poor people. And I ask you all to inform us at once if you see them hold this. . . speech. . . again. They urgently need professional help and we are trying to. . ."  
  
"They don't sound confused at all!" yelled one of the private people from the very back. "Yeah, I've seen them, too!" shouted another.  
  
Sirius decided that he wouldn't allow private people to come next time. Only reporters.  
  
"Well, that just shows how good Potter's manipulation magic works. He is just trying to fool us. But we must not let him fool us with these despicable tricks!" he answered. Then he pointed to the next reporter, and older one, hoping that he would change the subject.  
  
"Is it true that he never got a proper trail in the first place?" asked the old man calmly.  
  
Sirius almost cursed aloud. This could get dangerous.  
  
"We did what we found right at the time. Harry Potter was sentenced and brought to Azkaban as fast as possible to ensure the safety of the wizarding community. Potter has always been dangerous, so we wanted to have him locked up as soon as we could. Surely you agree to that. But of course he was properly convicted, no matter how fast. We had proves for Potter's guilt. Without these proves, we could not and would not have sentenced the man. There wasn't a doubt to Potter's guilt when he was convicted, and there isn't one today."  
  
"And what are these proves, Mr Black?" asked the same man.  
  
"I am not allowed to elaborate on them for matters of data protection. . ."  
  
"Ah, and why not? What do you have to hide, Black?" yelled a woman from the back.  
  
"Yes, we want proves! You cannot do this behind our back!"  
  
"If he's really guilty, just show it in a public trial!"  
  
The shouts from the back became more and more, louder and louder.  
  
Sirius tried to break it up. "All right. I believe that I have answered most of your questions. . ."  
  
"Don't you dare just ignore us!!!"  
  
"We want PROVES!!!"  
  
"ALRIGHT!" shouted Sirius back.  
  
There was utter shocked silence at this outburst.  
  
"Alright" he repeated, quieter. "We will hold a new trial, to start today in two weeks. We will dose Potter with Veritaserum and make him tell us what exactly happened at the Weasleys' house, and have him tell us about all the other things he did in the time after. . ."  
  
He did not get any further because the whole huge crowd, reporters and private people both, erupted into cheers. Anything he could have said would have drowned. So instead, he nodded at the people and left.  
  
Nobody minded. They had what they wanted.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
On his way back to Hogwarts, where his office and private quarters still were, Sirius Black thought about the words of the Minister.  
  
Cornelius had, immediately after he had heard of Potter's capture, told him to imprison him as soon as possible, or better, to give him the Kiss at once, and not to let it come to a further trial, under no circumstances.  
  
Sirius was still a bit confused at the words of his friend and mentor. Why was a new trial so bad, if it helped to assure people of Potter's innocence?  
  
Cornelius was probably just worried about the trouble that it would cause – organise it all, have the building specially secured (for Potter was known to be specially powerful). . . but he'd do that by himself, or order his people to. Cornelius could easily be kept from it, and then the man would have no stress.  
  
All that Cornelius would have to do was to tell people – probably under Veritaserum – of the proves of Potter's guilt.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §   
  
"They're actually going to hold a trial?"  
  
Lord Voldemort had rarely been so surprised.  
  
"Yes, my Lord. Deputy Minister Black announced it at the press conference. It will start today in two weeks."  
  
It was one of the rare moments in which the Dark Lord was amused. Very amused.  
  
"How very interesting. . . the Ministry is digging their own grave. Very interesting indeed. And what a great opportunity for me!"  
  
Wormtail said nothing. He had learned a long time ago that if his master wanted him to know about plans, he would tell him. Asking was very stupid. And painful.  
  
"Do you not agree, Wormtail, that this trial would be a very perfect opportunity to attack the Ministry and eliminate Potter at the same time?"  
  
"Oh yes, my Lord, a brilliant plan!"  
  
"And I will immediately set it into action."  
  
And then, Lord Voldemort summoned Draco Malfoy.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
A day later, Percy Weasley, the Ministry's Head of Security, had a visit in his office Neville Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Percy sensed immediately that this was not Albus Dumbledore at all, but the man who held the Imperius curse on him.  
  
"Percy. There has been a little change in our plans. I assume that you did already talk to Black about this. . . security conference, as I ordered?"  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
"How did he react?"  
  
"He found it unnecessary and he was very confused when I insisted. But he agreed in the end. We will have this meeting in three days in. . ."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Percy complied.  
  
"As I said, there has been a change in plans. Go to Black and tell him that you want this meeting. . . delayed, because everybody needs to prepare for the Potter-trial. I'm sure that he'll agree. Will you do that for me?"  
  
"Yes" said Percy in a monotone voice.  
  
Malfoy in his Dumbledore look grinned.  
  
"Good boy, Weasley. That is all I wanted. Goodbye."  
  
He walked to the door, but then turned around again.  
  
"Aah, and. . . act as though nothing had happened. If anybody asks what Dumbledore wanted from you. . . make something reasonable up."  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger, Seamus Finnigan, Minerva McGonagall, Neville and Ginny Weasley were sitting in the headmaster's office once again, talking about what to do.  
  
"One of us should be his defence." said Minerva. The others nodded.  
  
"To make sure he gets his rights. . . though somehow, I think that that won't be a way for Fudge to get away with it this time. It'll be a public trial, and a fair one, with a proper judge. Neither the judge nor the public will be satisfied before the truth is proven." agreed Remus.  
  
"Do we know who the other people are?" asked Hermione.  
  
"The other people?"  
  
"I mean, the judge, and the representative of the Ministry."  
  
Neville nodded. "We do. I have people in my department who still trust me with information, although I'm a "Potter sympathiser", as they now call me. . . and you, for that fact. I heard that Sirius will do the job for the Ministry. . . no surprise there, really. The judge will be Cho Chang, if you remember her. . ."  
  
"Of course!" said Hermione, "I didn't know she worked as a judge in these days. . ."  
  
"Well, she does. And she's known to be thorough and fair. The perfect conditions for us."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Now. . . who will do the defence? Because I don't want one that's appointed by the Ministry. . . they might be corrupt."  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"I'd like to do it." said Remus quietly.  
  
They all looked at him.  
  
"Well, we were friends before. . . it all happened. And I believed that he was a murderer. I didn't doubt it one second, just as Sirius didn't doubt Fudge's word. And I. . . I feel awful because of it. And anyway, it's. . . it is my fault entirely that he's in the situation now. If I hadn't. . . been so stupid. . ."  
  
He was silent for a while. Then: "I know that it doesn't make anything up. But I'd like to anyway."  
  
"They'll send you off to St Mungo's, saying that you're mentally unstable, manipulated by Harry and all that rubbish." said Ginny.  
  
"I know. But if I. . . turn myself in now, if you want to put it that way. . . they'll be done with the examinations in two weeks' time, and I won't give them the chance to mark me mentally unstable. They'll have to let me go. And they cannot do anything against me being Harry's defence."  
  
Silence again.  
  
Then Minerva nodded. "Well, I agree with the idea."  
  
So did the others.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §   
  
The evening before the big trial, Sirius Black slowly walked up the huge front yard of Cornelius Fudge's mansion. He wanted to talk to a friend, and he wanted to make sure that Cornelius was okay and not too nervous about being witness and giving his account under Veritaserum.  
  
Sirius had spent most of the last two weeks organising things for the trial – who would come, where it would take place, what security measures to arrange so that Potter, with all his power, couldn't do anything, and so that no maniac supporter of his could try and free him. The Ministry didn't want a scandal. Then he had thought about what points he would bring up in the trial – he was the representative of the Ministry and therefore responsible of convincing the judge of Potter's guilt. And he couldn't mess this up. Though there wasn't much to mess up, really. All he had to do was administer Veritaserum to Potter and make him tell the terrible truth, then Cornelius' account of it and the proves that the Ministry had – there wouldn't be anything left to doubt.  
  
As long as Potter didn't find a way to manipulate things. . . or to escape.  
  
He had spent the bit of free time that he'd had left running from the press, who were following him wherever he went, asking questions – if they'd interviewed Potter, Dumbledore, Snape and that medi-witch yet. . . what they had said. . . and what had Dumbledore done wrong, anyway? Albus Dumbledore, helping Potter the murderer? Really? Impossible! Had they really caught him in the act? And was Snape being shipped off to Azkaban again? And. . . And. . .  
  
Sirius hadn't answered any of these questions.  
  
Remus had. He'd told every reporter around all that he knew. . . well, that Potter had made him believe. Sirius hoped that he'd snap out of whatever curse he was under. And soon. And that he wouldn't feel too bad for working for Potter. That wasn't Remus' fault, really. Potter could have done that to anybody. Perhaps it was even an Imperius curse. Although the specialists of St Mungo's hadn't detected any curses. . . Well, Potter was probably able to hide his work if he wanted to. Even Unforgivables.  
  
Sirius' thought stopped as he reached the front door. He rang the bell.  
  
Nobody opened. He rang again.  
  
Nobody. The house must be empty.  
  
This was odd. Very odd.  
  
It was very strange for the Minister to have left one day before the trial in the first place. And without informing anybody? And the man had many house-elves. Wherever would he have taken them? If Cornelius travelled, he never took more than one house-elf along.  
  
How very strange. Or perhaps. . .  
  
Sirius paled. Perhaps somebody. . . some lunatic Potter supporter. . .  
  
He cast a few spells to open the door, but he couldn't. He tried the windows, too.  
  
They didn't budge.  
  
Panicking, Sirius ran back until he had passed the Apparation wards, then apparated straight to the Ministry to alert the aurors.  
  
§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §  
  
As it turned out, Cornelius Fudge had not been killed, or kidnapped, or harmed in any other way as Sirius had thought.  
  
When the aurors managed to break the wards on the house and break in, they searched every nook any cranny in order to find out exactly what had happened to the Minister of Magic.  
  
And what they discovered didn't make any sense to them.  
  
In the 'normal' part of the house, nothing extraordinary could be found. No signs of a fight nor of anything that explained why the house was totally empty. They didn't even know whether the man had been taken with force or had left out of his own will – for whatever reason. There was not a single house-elf. The whole mansion was one big mystery.  
  
Until they discovered the secret room.  
  
A magic-detector showed an extraordinary big amount of magic radiating off a wall in Cornelius Fudge's small private library. They found out that there were strong defence and disguise charms on it.  
  
From that point, it was easy to guess what it was and how to get in. Secret rooms were not uncommon in the bigger wizarding houses. Just rarely so well hidden.  
  
In the room, there were several big bookshelves, the books in them containing obviously Dark Magic. There were big cupboards, many drawers, a desk, a fireplace.  
  
In front of everything lay exactly twenty-five house-elves, looking scared and confused and springing up at once as the Ministry men entered.  
  
And the whole room smelled just awful.  
  
Sirius Black was immediately called there.  
  
"We. . . we did was Master told us. . . we. . . we didn't betray Master. . . we never. . ."  
  
"Shh. . ." said Sirius softly to the stuttering house-elf, a bit alarmed. "What is your name?"  
  
"F. . . Fubby, Sir!"  
  
Fubby seemed to be the chief house-elf, since all others were quiet and let him do the speaking.  
  
"Hello, Fubby. My name is Sirius Black. I am a friend of your master's. Do you know where he is?"  
  
"Master is. . . he is. . . Fubby doesn't know where he is, Sir! But Fubby always obeyed. . . and other house-elves, too, Sir! Always obeyed. . . even though. . . even though. . ."  
  
Several of the house-elves suddenly burst into tears. Fubby was one of them. It was a strange sight.  
  
"Fubby, why are you in here? Why are you in this room?"  
  
"Master. . . Master came to Fubby. . . and said that all house-elves stay in this room until. . . until Master comes to get house-elves out. . . Master said DO NOT LEAVE ROOM. . . and we didn't, Sir! Fubby swear we never. . . we never left the room, Sir! We is good house-elves. . ." sobbed Fubby.  
  
"Yes, you've done that very well. You're all very good house-elves, Fubby. Your master can be proud of you." Said Sirius.  
  
Fubby smiled widely and ceased crying.  
  
"How long have you been in here?"  
  
"Three. . . three days, Sir!"  
  
"Three days?! Good God. . . did he at least give you enough food?"  
  
"Master. . . Master did not give any food, Sir. . ."  
  
Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. What the hell had possessed Cornelius to lock his house-elves into this room – with no food – and just leave, without notifying anybody. . . and for three days? The man must have been in panic when he had done these decisions, thought Sirius. What had happened? What was he so scared of that he'd had to flee so quickly?  
  
Was he okay?  
  
The men provided all house-elves with food and water in the secret room, since they refused to leave it before their master allowed them to. Then, working around the servants, they proceeded to open the open the cupboards and drawers, while constantly assuring the house-elves that no, they weren't spying on their master, but trying to help the man.  
  
Sirius opened the upper drawer of a secretary.  
  
It was full of nothing but files with dates. He opened one and looked inside. With a small scream, he dropped it. His colleagues stared at him.  
  
He picked it up and opened it again.  
  
There was a photo of a half naked dead woman on the very front. Sirius skipped through it. There was a photo of a dead man, too. And a few photos of the house they were lying in – totally messed up. Then there was a piece of paper:  
  
May 6th 1999  
  
Victims:  
  
Howard and Sarah Truman, Bradford, Yorkshire Muggles  
  
Wordlessly, Sirius handed the file to one of his colleagues, who reacted as shocked as he had. The date was from before Potter's arrest. Could that be an attack that Potter had made and Cornelius hadn't made it public because there were no proves?  
  
But then, upon opening the other drawers, they did find files on attacks during Potter's time in Azkaban. And they all looked the same: Photos of bodies, destroyed houses, and a piece of paper with names, addresses and dates.  
  
The only differences were that the letter's after Potter's flight from Hogwarts included a copy of the letters he wrote.  
  
So some of the attacks had been done by him after all. But not all – how could a man murder others and be sitting in Azkaban at the same time?  
  
Or perhaps. . . Potter had managed to break out of Azkaban easily. Perhaps that hadn't been the first time. Perhaps Potter had broken out, murdered, and got back in unnoticed. . . but so often. . . and why? Sirius decided not to think about that any longer. He had no idea what these pictures meant and guessing was useless.  
  
The one thing that was important now was to find Cornelius as soon as possible. Cornelius would tell him what all that meant as soon as he was back.  
  
Sirius set his man at finding him at once, and after leaving the house- elves plates and glasses with food and water that kept refilling themselves, they abandoned the mansion.  
  
He just hoped that they'd find Cornelius soon.  
  
He had to give evidence at the trial.  
  
END CHAPTER 30 


	32. Chapter 31: Truth

Chapter 31: Truth  
  
„Mr Black, please read out the indictment."said judge Cho Chang.  
  
"Certainly" replied the Deputy Minister of Magic. While he read, his cold gaze never left Harry.  
  
"Harry James Potter is accused of the murder of Ronald, Molly and Arthur Weasley at the 23rd of July in 1999. He is further accused of murdering SEVEN" as he said the number, he looked up at Cho meaningfully "Muggle and two wizarding families at the time between his breakout of Azkaban and his capture 15 days ago. All in all, this man is the murderer of 29 people. . . and that's just what we have proof for. The number is likely to be even larger."  
  
At this, the crowd was getting louder, some of them yelling things like "You bloody traitor" and "Heartless bastard" at Harry. Cho silenced them.  
  
"Also, he is accused of working at a public school, namely Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, under a false identity. Mr Potter is further accused of forcefully breaking into Gringotts Wizarding Bank, stealing the sum of 3.7 million galleons and damaging the building of the bank severely. He is accused of kidnapping Ronny Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Seamus Finnigan and Remus Lupin, torturing them severely and manipulating their thoughts and their will. Also he is accused of assisting the Ministry prisoner Severus Snape in breaking out of Azkaban Prison and helping him in his flight from the Ministry. And last, he is accused of attacking employees of the Ministry of Magic. . . 67 times."  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
The crowd of spectators looked utterly shocked, although they had known the points before. To have everything summarised in that long list made it clearer to them just how many horrible crimes Potter had committed. . . and that in the few months between breaking out and being caught again. . .  
  
Meanwhile, the accused, who was magically bound to the chair he was sitting in, had a look around the crowd.  
  
Harry met the eyes of several people he knew. All of the remaining Weasleys were in the crowd, though not together. Fred, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill were sitting next to each other, each in the company of a woman – wives or girlfriends, Harry thought. All of these people looked more furious than Harry had ever seen them.  
  
Harry's gaze went further. Neville and Ginny Longbottom sat a bit away from them. Ronny, Martin, Leon and four people who were probably Leon's and Martin's parents (one looked a lot like Colin Creevey used to) were with them. Neville nodded at Harry when their gazes met.  
  
Other people Harry recognised were former classmates like Dean Thomas or Lavender Brown. Minerva was among the watchers, too, and standing next to her was Hermione. Harry wondered where Albus was. He hadn't yet seen him.  
  
And unfortunately, he didn't see the grey rat with a silver paw, either.  
  
"Thank you, Mr Black. Mr Lupin, have you got anything to say to that?" asked Cho Chang.  
  
Sirius Black sat down as Remus stood up.  
  
He directed his speech at the crowd.  
  
"As you will soon see, ladies and gentlemen, Mr Potter has neither committed any of the murders that were just listed, nor has he ever kidnapped anybody – in fact, it was him, even, who saved us from the real kidnappers. But I will go into that later. The other points – staying at Hogwarts under a false identity, breaking into Gringotts and helping Severus Snape to escape – we freely admit that he has done these things. And for 'attacking' the aurors, as Mr Black said. . . he just wanted to secure his freedom and safety, which is, I think, something that everybody here can understand. And, by the way. . . 'attack' is perhaps a bit too hard a word for what really happened. Because Mr Potter did, in fact, never use anything more harmful than stunning spells."  
  
Then he glared at Sirius. "I demand a full pardon, a public apology for the wrongful imprisonment and the wrongful accusations, and of course an appropriate compensation. . . as appropriate as possible, for this isn't something you can ever make up. . . from the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Then he looked at Cho: "That is all.", and he sat down.  
  
"Thank you, Mr Lupin." said the judge.  
  
Sirius Black looked at his one-time-friend with a sneer on his face. With the arrogant way in which Lupin was behaving, he was beginning to forget his pity for the 'poor manipulated man'. . . and he was seriously starting to wonder if Lupin hadn't been hexed by Potter, but had just changed sides on his own? That would be an explanation why the St Mungo's specialists hadn't found any curses on him. . .  
  
Be that as it may, with this pitiful defence there was no way in which Potter could escape the Dementor's Kiss this time – Lupin telling people that he was innocent was no good with no proof. And there couldn't be any proof.  
  
Because Potter was not innocent.  
  
"We shall proceed with the hearing of evidence. Mr Black, if you please. We would like to know what proof you have behind these hard accusations." said Cho Chang.  
  
"Certainly."  
  
Sirius was prepared for this. He had photos of everything. He had the letters that Potter had left. He had witnesses that had seen Potter run out of Gringotts. And he had the most important thing – he had Potter himself and the right to use Veritaserum on the man. Potter could not find a way around confessing everything. The only thing that he didn't have was Cornelius Fudge to give evidence. The minister had not yet turned up or been found. His men were still working on that. But it didn't really matter for the trial. Potter would confess on his own, Cornelius could only say the same thing from his side.  
  
Sirius stood.  
  
For the next 80 minutes, Sirius proceeded to show the judge and the watchers his evidence. He started with the more harmless things – people saying how they had seen Potter run out of Gringotts after the time of the break-in, aurors saying how Potter had fought them down when they had tried to capture him. When Lupin asked, however, they had to admit that Potter had never directly harmed an auror or a bystander and that he had always used stunning curses. Which were, yes, that was right, never fatal.  
  
Sirius did not at all feel insecure after that little setback. He had saved the important things for the end, of course. People wouldn't be able to get their thoughts off of the hard proof once they'd seen it. He couldn't present them anything else afterwards.  
  
Finally, after about fifteen minutes of people speaking, Sirius presented the crowd the photos of the murdered, magically projecting them onto one of the big walls in cinema size. The bodies lying somewhere in their messed-up homes, sometimes even further disfigured with the help of knives. Men, women, children, infants. He had photos of every murder except that of the three Weasleys – the first one. As he showed the photos, he commented on the people – who they were, what they had been doing before their cruel murder, what they had planned for the future. It increased the drama effect a lot, like he had intended.  
  
At the sight oft the horrible pictures, the crowed was immensely shocked. Many were crying, especially those who were family or friends of the victims. Others left the room because they were getting sick.  
  
Potter, Sirius noted with growing fury, had the cheek to look shocked and sad himself. That bastard was putting on a show.  
  
Finally, Sirius turned to Lupin coldly and said: "Do you still believe in that man's innocence, Mr Lupin?"  
  
The crowd went silent.  
  
Lupin smiled back just as coldly. "You told me nothing new. These pictures were shocking and saddening and I agree that whoever has committed these murders deserves a lifetime in Azkaban or maybe even worse. But that person is not Harry Potter. You have merely shown what crimes were committed, which, I might add, we have all known for long. If you have no evidence for your accusations that Mr Potter here has done any of this, I suggest you stop wasting our time and we proceed with the negotiation about the compensation."  
  
Sirius was boiling inside.  
  
"If this isn't proof enough for you, I suggest we subject him to Veritaserum and have him tell us what exactly he did."  
  
"Yes, I find that a good idea."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"My name is Harry James Potter and I was born on July 31 in 1980." replied Harry in a monotone voice.  
  
Sirius Black got a contented smile on his face. It seemed to be working perfectly. He took the photo of Potter's latest known murder and showed it to the man.  
  
The room was totally silent.  
  
"Now, Mr Potter, could you please explain to us how you killed these four Muggles?"  
  
Harry's answer came immediately and in the calm voice in which people under Veritaserum always spoke, unless they were very pleased or very distressed:  
  
"I did not kill these Muggles."  
  
Sirius blinked, totally shocked. This was unexpected.  
  
There was an uproar among the watchers. Potter said he hadn't done it. Potter was under Veritaserum. Was it possible that Potter actually wasn't what they'd always believed him to be. . .?  
  
Sirius grabbed the next photo.  
  
"And these, Potter?"  
  
"I didn't kill these, either."  
  
The crowd started muttering quietly. Most people looked confused. Very few were smiling openly. Remus Lupin was one of them.  
  
The defendant stood up and made his way to the chair where Harry was seated. He continued the questioning confidently.  
  
"Did you kill any of the families that we've just been shown on those photos, Mr Potter?" asked Remus.  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
"And did you kidnap Hermione Granger, Ronny Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan and myself?"  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
Sirius snorted. "Oh, good trick. And I suppose, Potter, that you didn't kill Ron, Molly and Arthur Weasley, either?"  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
"Aah, so you've been wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban all the time?"  
  
Sirius' voice was rising higher and getting louder as he spoke.  
  
"Yes, that is right." responded Harry as calmly as before.  
  
Sirius turned to Cho, furious.  
  
"Judge Chang, Mr Potter here has obviously developed an immunity to Veritaserum. This cannot be the truth. I am asking for other evidence for his innocence. He is, after all, known to be. . . extraordinarily powerful. Letting him go because of this trick of his could be fatal."  
  
"Judge Chang," said Remus Lupin, "I ask you not to listen to what Mr Black here is saying. There is no reason to doubt the truth behind Mr Potter's statement, since he is talking under the influence of Veritaserum. Mr Black is just not willing to accept the truth, that is all."  
  
Then he looked at Sirius coldly. "It is usually innocent until proven guilty, not the other way around, you know." he whispered.  
  
While Sirius was glaring daggers at his one-time-best-friend, an auror walked up to him fast, calling the attention of all people to himself.  
  
"Mr Black, we have found the Minister."  
  
"Is he here?"  
  
"Yes. He is in the headquarters. But he is very confused. He tried to run away from us when we. . ."  
  
"Never mind his condition. This will not worsen it. Bring him here immediately, we need his testimony. Potter has found a way around Veritaserum."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Please state your name, your position and your date of birth." said Remus Lupin.  
  
"I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic since 1990. I was born on February 16 in 1943."  
  
Fudge spoke in the same tone of voice in which Harry had spoken.  
  
"Mr Fudge. At the 23rd of July in 1999, Ron, Arthur and Molly Weasley were murdered. Do you remember that day?" asked Remus Lupin further.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It was your men who found their bodies, right?"  
  
"Yes, that is right."  
  
"Could you please describe the scene that they found?"  
  
"They found Lucius Malfoy lying in the front-yard, stunned. He was in his Deatheater robes. Ron Weasley was lying on the stairs, dead. Next to him was Potter, also stunned. The dead bodies of Arthur and Molly Weasley were found on the second floor."  
  
Sirius blinked. Potter had been stunned? And Malfoy, too? How? Who had stunned them after they had killed the Weasleys?  
  
"You had Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy imprisoned for the murder of the Weasleys, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was there a proper trail?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Explain."  
  
Fudge's voice kept its monotonous tone. "All I needed for the document of the sentence was the signatures of two judges who swore that they believed Potter guilty because of the evidence against him. I signed one myself. I had the other one signed by Sirius Black."  
  
"Has Mr Black seen any evidence against Mr Potter?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then why did he sign?"  
  
"Because I told him that I had evidence against Potter. I had a long talk with him. I told him that I had long suspected Potter to have gone Dark. I said that he needed to be taken care of immediately because he was dangerous. I said that seeing the proof would just upset him more."  
  
Fudge suddenly smiled broadly. "Since I gave him an auror position at the Ministry, I have total control over him. He said that I'd made him feel useful once more, less of an outsider and so on. . . nobody's ever been so thankful to me for anything. And he really was useful. I pretended being best friends because I thought he might give me some influence on what Dumbledore and Potter were doing or at least tell me about their plans. . . but he was even more useful than I had ever imagined."  
  
While Remus was waiting patiently for the agitated people to calm down and be quiet, he sent a quick gaze to said Sirius Black.  
  
The man stared at Fudge, his mouth slightly parted, eyes wide. Remus would have laughed aloud if it hadn't been so sad.  
  
"Mr Fudge, do you or did you ever believe that Mr Potter has killed Ron, Molly and Arthur Weasley?"  
  
"No, I never believed him guilty." said Fudge flatly.  
  
Sirius stared at the man he had for long considered his best friend, not knowing what to think.  
  
"Who do you believe to be the true murderer, then?" asked Remus further.  
  
"Some Deatheaters of You-Know-Who."  
  
Again, Remus had to wait for silence before he could continue. The people talked, gasped, pointed and paled; the reporters shot photos of the scene.  
  
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister they had elected and re-elected and re- elected again. . . the man who had lead the first "trial" against Potter, had just stated that he believed Potter innocent. And stated that after having been administered Veritaserum.  
  
And that really left no doubt behind. . .  
  
"Was this the only attack that You-Know-Who has done since his rebirth on the 24th of June in 1994?"  
  
"No, there were more than just that one."  
  
"And why didn't that ever get known to public?"  
  
"Because we always managed to cover the attacks up before anybody got wind of them." said Fudge.  
  
Remus was not really surprised by this. The majority of people, though, including one Sirius Black, was absolutely flabbergasted.  
  
"Who is 'we'?" asked Remus, inwardly smirking. He was glad and gleeful that Fudge would finally be seen as what he really was, both by Sirius and by his voters.  
  
He briefly gazed up to Sirius, who stared at Harry with a shocked expression and as pale as a ghost.  
  
Harry didn't meet his gaze.  
  
"There are still many people on my side." answered Fudge, the smile returning. "In fact, you could say that I've got my own little organisation behind me. My people are not loyal to Black or any Ministry morals or anything, just to me. I pay them well. It is their job to keep things hidden. Facts that are not to get public. Like the whole Potter thing, and You-Know-Who's activities."  
  
"Were there many such Deatheater-attacks that you covered up?"  
  
"236 exactly, including the ones we framed Potter for." Replied Fudge.  
  
Remus smirked openly. That traitorous bastard was digging his own grave with no gloat and happiness showing in his features. That, of course, was an effect of the potion. But it was funny to watch nevertheless.  
  
"Would you please explain that?"  
  
"After Potter's escape from Hogwarts, I decided that we could as well only hide the Dark Mark and let the aurors find the bodies of You-Know-Who's victims. We left letters behind in Potter's name, confessing the crimes. He had done that in Gringotts. We had his handwriting from that. And the effects of those letters were huge. People got even more scared of Potter and more furious, thinking that he was a raving lunatic killing for fun and for revenge, fearing that they might be his next victims, since the Dark Lord and his supporters often choose random people for their entertainment murders. And it had the effect that people were even less likely to question Potter's cruelty or insanity."  
  
Remus was very pleased at the reactions of the people.  
  
The reporters were still shooting photos of Fudge, of Sirius, and of Harry of course.  
  
The other watchers looked from Fudge to Harry and back to Fudge, stunned. Everything they'd been told about Harry Potter in the last several years. . . was a lie?  
  
Cho Chang, the judge, just looked furious.  
  
Sirius Black now stared at Fudge, trying and failing to find a way around believing what the Minister had just said under Veritaserum.  
  
Harry had problems holding his head up. His eyes were constantly closing, too. And he had problems concentrating, thinking clearly. Remus, busy with talking to Fudge, didn't notice. Except for a few worried glances, nobody reacted.  
  
"So you are saying", summarised Remus, "that Harry Potter has never killed anybody and has spent several years in Azkaban – innocent?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
There was utter silence.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The building was surrounded.  
  
The magical security wards had been taken off and replaced with others without anybody noticing. The plan was in the process of being carried out most brilliantly.  
  
The new wards were the most brilliant thing of all. Deatheaters would be able to apparate, everybody else not.  
  
Lord Voldemort had no illusions that Potter would be held in by his wards for long. He knew now that the brat had powers that might even come close to his own. But it would take Potter time to break them, and he wouldn't get the chance. And perhaps he was still weakened from their last encounter – he had, after all, been severely injured.  
  
As the Dark Lord thought about what he would do with Potter before ending his life, he finally received the magical message he had been waiting for. Wormtail reported that everything was in order – everybody in the courtroom, only a few security men left in the halls.  
  
It could begin.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Mr Potter? Mr Potter, can you hear me?"  
  
Harry slowly turned his head to see a very blurred judge Cho Chang looking at him worriedly.  
  
"Yeh. . . "  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?"  
  
Remus was shaking him.  
  
"Feel. . . odd. . . ever'thin movin. . ." murmured Harry. Then his head fell onto the table again.  
  
"Harry. . . Harry, stay awake!"  
  
He saw Remus' face suddenly leaning over him. It was not only blurry, it was also all. . . blue? Yes, blue. Everything was suddenly blue, anyway. . . no, there were green dots dancing in the distance, too. . .  
  
Then everything went black.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Hermione Granger stood up among the murmuring crowd of watchers. She glared at Sirius Black furiously.  
  
"Look at him! Your man obviously overdosed him with Veritaserum! His condition was bad anyway! Now look at him! Do you have any idea how dangerous this can be?!" she yelled angrily. Everybody stared at her.  
  
Sirius looked at the man standing next to him who had administered Potter the potion. "Is that true?" he hissed.  
  
"Mr Black, I. . . I thought that it'd be better to. . . be safe, you know, because of Potter's. . . odd powers. . . I thought he might be able to fight it, so I took some more. . . to make sure that it would work. . ."  
  
"Well, you see how well it works!!" snapped Sirius.  
  
One of the ministry's medi-wizards meanwhile made his way over to the unconscious defendant. A few moments later, he announced that Harry Potter's condition was stable but that it'd take him a while to recover from the potion's effects – perhaps half an hour, perhaps an hour, perhaps even longer. . . that depended on his immune system.  
  
Cho Chang sighed.  
  
"I was about to ask Mr Potter how the Weasleys were murdered, but since he cannot tell us, I fear that we'll have to use another method. For it would be very bad if we had to delay this trial." she said into the room. Then she turned to the young mediwizard who had now taken place next to Harry. "Could a mind-view worsen Mr Potter's condition?"  
  
The young man frowned. Then he shook his head. "That is very unlikely. In fact, I think that he'll put up less resistance if you we do it now. It could however happen that he mixes memories up because, if you don't mind me saying it like this, his head is a bit of a mess right now. . ."  
  
"But it will not be dangerous?"  
  
"No, not dangerous." the man confirmed.  
  
"Very well."  
  
She turned to Remus. "Mr Lupin. . . I suppose you do not mind the court searching Mr Potter's mind for the murder of the Weasleys? If it happened as you said, it would be proof enough for me to speak him free of that."  
  
"I agree with the method."  
  
"Very well then."  
  
A few minutes later the spells were performed and the memories could be seen on a big screen. Remus, knowing everything from Harry's Pensieve, felt a sense of déjà-vu.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The Dark Lord smirked.  
  
He had decided to take care of Potter himself. It was not dangerous at all. Dumbledore was locked away. Potter did, as Wormtail had reported, show signs of an overdose of Veritaserum. And now he had even fainted. It was too easy, really.  
  
The Dark Lord was, in person, in the courtroom and watched with amusement as the screen was set up and the spells put onto Potter while all the stupid brainless people in the room chattered with excitement.  
  
But he himself was a bit excited, too.  
  
A collection Harry Potter's worst memories on a screen.  
  
It was a finer amusement than any Cruciatus Curse.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
In spite of Harry Potter's unconsciousness, it took the Ministry's local Legilimency Master twice as long as usually to break into the man's mind. And from there on even much longer to find what he'd been looking for, so that the large group of reporters, officials and other watchers ended up watching many different scenes before they finally came to the one they had been looking for.  
  
. . .  
  
The first thing that appeared was a teenage Harry Potter, sixteen of seventeen, being shoved into a wall in the kitchen of number 4, Private Drive, by a purple-faced and obviously drunk man.  
  
"That's his uncle!" Hermione Granger exclaimed in shock while the teenage Harry hissed in pain.  
  
"You've been nothing but a burden since they left you here, Potter!" the beefy man yelled. "This situation is entirely your fault!"  
  
"Uncle Vernon, I haven't got anything to do with the profit of your business." said Harry quietly.  
  
"They must have found out about your FREAKISHNESS!!!" yelled the man back and attempted to strike at Harry. Harry dodged. "They're about to FIRE me! Do you understand what that means?! This family's income will be GONE! Because you FREAK are living in this house! You're leaving tonight, Potter!"  
  
Harry dodged the next blow.  
  
"Vernon, please, you know that he cannot leave. The protection on this house. . ." piped a high female voice.  
  
Vernon Dursley turned around. "I don't care whether he lives or dies! We've kept this freak here for long enough! You don't owe this to your sister or to anybody, Petunia. It's not like these people ever did anything for us. Potter is leaving."  
  
"No, he is not." said Petunia Dursley, trying to look confident.  
  
Vernon's face coloured even deeper than before. "Since when are YOU telling ME what to do in my own house?" he screamed.  
  
Petunia started shaking and took a step away from the big man.  
  
"This is all coming from your side anyway! There aren't any such freaks on MY side of the family!"  
  
Petunia backed away further until she was standing with her back to a wall. She looked terrified.  
  
"If YOU. . ."  
  
Vernon grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her hard.  
  
"If YOU hadn't brought this. . . this PERSON into the family, everything would have been so much better. . ." he shouted.  
  
"Vernon. . . please let go, Vernon!" she whimpered.  
  
"But noooooo. . . YOU felt obliged to take in the BASTARD of your DEAD FREAK-SISTER. . ."  
  
"You're HURTING ME, Vernon!" shrieked Petunia. But he kept shaking her.  
  
"And in spite of everything he's done, you keep PROTECTING Potter as though he were a saint, while he happily RUINS EVERYTHING!!!"  
  
"Vernon, please. . ."  
  
"Let her go, Uncle Vernon!" shouted Harry at the man.  
  
"He always brings these WEIDOS to the house. . . and all his TRICKS. . . remember the fireplace when he was fourteen? Or that. . . that tail on poor Dudley when that MONSTER came to pick him up? He's got all these monster friends. . . nothing normal about him at all. . ."  
  
Harry used all his strength in order to pull his uncle off his aunt. It didn't really work as he had hoped, but Vernon finally took notice of him. He let go off Petunia, who sank to the floor sobbing, and lunged at Harry's head with all his might. This time, the boy didn't manage to dodge.  
  
The memory faded.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Give it up, Harry. He's dead." Ron Weasley said gently.  
  
"HE IS NOT DEAD!!!" Harry yelled back. "Why can't you understand that? We just have to figure out the counter curse. It's all in this book. . ."  
  
"Harry, please. Look at yourself. You've spent the last two months in the library. Your grades are worse than ever before. Please be sensible. . ." argued Hermione.  
  
"Who cares about fucking grades? The life of my godfather is at stake here!" screamed Harry. "Why don't you help me figure it out? How can you leave me alone in this situation? Don't you care about Sirius at all?!"  
  
"Of course we cared about him, mate. But he's dead. You must accept that and move on."  
  
"This book. . ."  
  
"That book of yours is old and unreliable. Even Dumbledore said that he couldn't make sense of it. You should just throw it away. . ."  
  
"And let him die? NEVER!"  
  
Ron was getting angry. "STOP YELLING HARRY!!! Snap out of it. We haven't spent any time together in weeks! I mean, we're supposed to be best friends. Hermione and I hardly see you anymore. . ."  
  
"EXACTLY! Friends are supposed to stand together. I've never needed your help more than now." Harry replied, sad and angry. Everything had changed between them.  
  
Hermione sighed. "You know we'd stand beside you through anything, Harry, but this is hopeless. That book makes no sense. The veil kills people. Nothing else. He's gone, Harry. I know it's hard, but you cannot change it."  
  
Harry glared of her. "We'll see that, Hermione. I'm beginning to understand some of this book, and it is very obviously hinting that there is a way to reverse the effect of the veil. If you decide to help me, I will really appreciate it. If not, please leave, I have a lot of work to do."  
  
Hermione looked at him sadly and walked away.  
  
Ron glared at him. "Watch what you're doing, Harry. We hardly know you anymore. Are you even aware that you're in the process of destroying our friendship?"  
  
"It's not me who's destroying it, Ron." Harry replied. Then he turned back to the numerous books and hand-written notes that were lying on the big table in front of him, piled them up and left with them before Madame Pince could reprimand him for yelling in the library.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Harry ran. He was almost there. At the veil. He dodged a spell that came from behind him. From McGonagall.  
  
They had seen him leave. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape. But they wouldn't stop him. He wouldn't let them stop him. He wouldn't let anything stop him until he had arrived at the veil, cast the spell and freed his godfather before it was too late.  
  
It would work. It just had to. He had thought everything through very carefully. It had to work. He was sure he wouldn't get another chance.  
  
He was there. The veil.  
  
Harry immediately cast a strong protection charm around himself and the veil – the strongest one he had found in the whole library. It had taken him weeks of practice just to learn how to cast it. He hoped that it would hold them off, at least for a while. Until he was done.  
  
"Harry, please, back off! The veil is dangerous, you know that." Dumbledore said while working on the shield that held him off his student and the terrible object. "What if anything goes wrong and you fall in? Or are pulled in? One should never temper with things like this one. . ."  
  
Harry ignored him and started to chant the curse. The curse that he had worked out after more than three months of sitting day and night in the library, mostly alone. He had not done any homework, skipped classes very often, ignored detentions, lost hundreds of house-points, been abandoned by his best friends. . . It had cost everything he had. It just had to work.  
  
And it did.  
  
When he was finally done chanting, light started to stream from the veil, so bright that Harry covered his eyes. Dumbledore finally broke his protection charm and roughly pulled him away. Harry didn't care anymore. The charm was done.  
  
When the light faded away, a very much alive looking Sirius Black stood n front of the veil. The man blinked. "What's going on? Where is everybody?"  
  
Dumbledore, shocked, released Harry, who was lying in his godfather's arms a second later, sobbing with happiness.  
  
Then the scene faded into blackness as the boy fainted from magical exhaustion.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Do you think that you'll find it?" asked judge Cho Chang the Legilimency Master.  
  
"Yes, I most likely will. It must be here somewhere, I'm on the right track. But I'm afraid breaking memories off before they're through might be a bit dangerous to his mind because he has absolutely no control. So we'll just have to let it run through. . ."  
  
"That is alright." Chang said. Then she looked at the mediwizard expectantly.  
  
"Well, his condition did not change, although these thoughts we're looking at are troubling him. . . he is seeing all of it, too, you know, although he is unconscious." The mediwizard replied.  
  
Chang nodded, her expression grim. "Continue anyway."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Harry way standing in a graveyard, a circle of Deatheaters around him. Cedric Diggory's body was lying near him. And he was facing the Dark Lord. Voldemort.  
  
They watched, amazed, as the wands connected through a beam of light, as the shapes of the dead came out, as Harry ran for his life and finally brought himself and Cedric back to Hogwarts per portkey. Then memory stopped there.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Harry was lying on the ground, obviously magically bound there. He looked terrible – as terrible as he had ever looked. There was blood all around him. Slashes and bruises all over him.  
  
"That it what happened to him after he managed to get us out of this hellhole. . . the Dark Lord's castle." Remus Lupin commented.  
  
The crowd watched, amazed and horrified, as Harry refused to join the Dark Lord several times, earning himself horrible torture. Some actually laughed as he thrust a knife into the monster's body. Admiration was written all over their faces as Harry, who could not even stand due to his leg having been broken, duelled down dozens of Deatheaters and finally fled from the hall by blasting the wall apart and flying out on a broom.  
  
Again, the scene faded.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Come on, Potter, sing for me!"  
  
Harry ignored the auror. He was sitting in his cell, his head in his hands, crying softly. The dementors had come over not long before and he knew what day it was – and that day always caused feelings of loneliness in him, anyway.  
  
The auror, Shacklebolt, opened the barred door. There were two young aurors standing next to him. They wouldn't have any problems with the unarmed man, even if Potter did try something.  
  
Shacklebolt came in, grabbed Harry by the collar and lifted him off the ground.  
  
"It's Christmas Day, Potter, and I've spent all day hanging out in this hellhole. What do you say to that?"  
  
Harry said nothing.  
  
Shacklebolt kicked him into the stomach.  
  
Harry cringed but didn't make a sound.  
  
Shacklebolt pressed his face against the bars of the door, which were magically fixed so that the prisoners would make sure to stay away from them. Finally, Harry did react, struggling and screaming. When Shacklebolt pulled him away, there were big red stripes on his face.  
  
"Now what do you say to that, Potter? Me having to spend this day here because bastards like yourself see fit to walk around murdering folks. Don't you think it's a bit unfair?"  
  
He kicked Harry again. The younger aurors laughed, impressed by the way Shacklebolt handled Potter. Shacklebolt smirked triumphantly.  
  
Harry glared up at him. "Why, you seem to be enjoying yourself just fine." he spat.  
  
One of the young guys hit him hard across the face.  
  
"You know I have a young daughter, Potter?" continued Shacklebolt.  
  
"Really."  
  
"She is six years old now. She was so looking forward to today. She hung pictures of Father Christmas and Christmas trees all over the place."  
  
"How cute."  
  
"And do you know how she reacted when I told her that I wouldn't be there this morning?"  
  
"Is that a rhetorical question or not?"  
  
"She CRIED, Potter! I've never seen her cry like that."  
  
Another kick to his stomach sent Harry onto the ground again.  
  
"She sobbed on my shoulder for half an hour."  
  
Harry tried to get to his feet, but Shacklebolt kept kicking him back down.  
  
"She said that it would ruin. . ."  
  
Kick.  
  
". . . the whole day. . ."  
  
Kick.  
  
". . . if her daddy. . ."  
  
Kick.  
  
". . . wasn't there!"  
  
Harry groaned. He was shaking. He hoped there wouldn't be any lasting injuries.  
  
He slowly managed to shift he head so that he was facing Shacklebolt again.  
  
"I feel sincerely sorry for your daughter." he said. "Lonely Christmas is something that no child should go through. It even gets to you when you're an adult, really. . ."  
  
There was a final kick between Harry's legs. The man gasped for air.  
  
The memory faded.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Harry was magically bound to the ground. They recognised the scene. It was part of what had happened after he had rescued the kidnapped from Voldemort.  
  
"What do you want from me, Voldemort?" spat Harry.  
  
"What I want, Harry? It's simple, really. I want you. At my side. I want you to join me."  
  
"I will never join you. . ."  
  
"We shall see."  
  
An odd beam of light was coming from the medal around the Dark Lord's neck. Voldemort laughed. Harry screamed terribly.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"That's the one." commented Remus Lupin when the next memory came to the surface.  
  
(Author's note: See chapter 29 for more detailed scene!)  
  
And the scene unfolded again, starting with a young Harry walking back over the Weasleys' front yard, smiling merrily. He had gone a good bit already when there were suddenly Deatheaters everywhere. Many. And out of nowhere, it seemed.  
  
The spectators, reporters and Ministry officials quickly clamped their hands over their ears as Harry was rolling on the ground a moment later, screaming loudly in pain. Cruciatus. And they watched with amazement and surprise as he suddenly shot up from the ground and stunned his attacker – the only Deatheater still there with him. Ending a Cruciatus on their own was supposed to be impossible for a victim.  
  
"OH MY GOD, ARTHUR, IT'S THEM!!! ARTHUR!!!"  
  
The yelling woman (those who had known her recognised her immediately as Molly Weasley) sounded totally horrified.  
  
They saw Harry's expression change from astonishment to horror as her realised what was happening. Harry darted back to the house, shouting frantically for the Deatheaters to stop, not to kill them, to take him instead and be satisfied with it. Harry kicked the door open and ran through the rooms, not finding anybody. Then there was Ron Weasley's corpse on the stairs.  
  
Several of the people broke down together with the memory-Harry, as the latter tried desperately to revive his friend but failed. Ron Weasley was dead. So were his parents, who Harry found in the upper floor. Their fear was still visible on their dead faces.  
  
And then a voice suddenly sounded from behind the sobbing man.  
  
"You're not looking very heroic at the moment, Potter. Are you. . . not feeling well?"  
  
And Harry turned around.  
  
"Pettigrew!" exclaimed some. The man had become famous for his role in the Deputy Minister's wrongful imprisonment and later for breaking out of a Ministry holding cell after having given evidence at Black's new trial.  
  
And before Harry could react, he blacked out upon being hit by some beam of light coming out of Pettigrew's silver hand.  
  
The next scenes followed immediately: Harry waking up in a Ministry cell, the aurors' reaction and mistreatment. And then the sentence in the Minister's office.  
  
Harry, upon seeing his godfather, threw himself into Sirius' arms, only to be pushed onto the floor fiercely.  
  
Sirius Black's expression was one of hatred and disgust.  
  
Then followed the accusations. Fudge's thoughts, coming out of Sirius' mouth. You're a Dark wizard. You killed the Weasleys. You killed many more that were never proved. You're a traitor, a murderer. And Harry's words – I didn't do it, I give you my word, help me, Sirius, I'm innocent, listen to me. . . – didn't do him any good, were ignored. And then the document about what should have been a fair trial, signed by Cornelius Fudge, a liar, traitor, power-hungry politician, and by Sirius Black, who sentenced his Godson to Azkaban although he had never seen any evidence, acting only upon the word of a false friend.  
  
The scene changed again to aurors in Azkaban, not Shacklebolt and friends, but another group. Yet – the treatment was very similar.  
  
Harry kept having flashbacks of his last meeting with his Godfather while he was being hit and kicked and thrown around. They appeared on the screen, too, though very blurry.  
  
"You betrayed all of us, Potter. . ."  
  
Harry groaned.  
  
"You killed half of the Weasleys. . ."  
  
He was being thrown against the wall. Over and over again. But he didn't react to the aurors at all.  
  
"Murderer!"  
  
Sirius Black's voice kept ringing in his head and his hateful face kept appearing out of nowhere wherever Harry looked, until he finally passed out.  
  
"That will be enough!" said Cho Chang loudly to the Legilimency Master before another memory opened. "I believe that we have seen all that was needed. I no longer have a doubt that Harry Potter is and always was innocent of all crimes for which he has been sent to Azkaban. We shall have a one-hour break to try and clear our heads. . . and then I will proclaim the sentence."  
  
Cho Chang herself was one of those people who had cried plenty while watching. The memories hadn't been easy for anybody to watch.  
  
Remus Lupin, meanwhile, watched Sirius Black intently, as did many of the reporters, who were already making up headlines and taking photos of the Deputy Minister.  
  
Sirius was staring down at the table he was sitting at, his face mostly hidden by his long hair. His hands were balled to fists and he was shaking all over. He was obviously taking it as badly as Remus had expected.  
  
Suddenly, Sirius bolted up from his chair so hard that it fell to the floor, pushed some aurors who were around him roughly aside and ran out of the room through the door behind Cho, banging it loudly behind him.  
  
Some reporters tried to follow, but Cho held them back.  
  
Remus looked at Harry. His condition seemed a bit better, but he was still unconscious. The mediwizard looked like a competent person. Harry would be alright. Remus made his way to the door. Cho looked at him.  
  
"Don't you agree that he could use a friend now?" whispered Remus at her.  
  
Cho looked surprised at first, then she smiled grimly. "He's extremely lucky to have a true friend left after what he's done."  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
When Harry opened his eyes, somebody immediately bent over him, though he couldn't tell who it was, because everything was still blurry.  
  
"Mr Potter? Can you hear me?"  
  
He didn't know the voice either.  
  
"Does any part of your body hurt, sir? Or are you feeling sick?"  
  
Turning his head, Harry realised that he was lying on a stretcher which was floating in mid-air. How very odd. How had he got there?  
  
"Who are you?" he muttered.  
  
"My name is Alex Handerson, I'm a medi-wizard employed by the Ministry of Magic." Upon seeing Harry's confusion, Handerson continued: "You have been drugged with an overdose of Veritaserum, Mr Potter. Can you tell me how you are feeling, please?"  
  
Harry was silent for a moment. "I've got a headache and I feel a bit weak. That's all that's new. And I feel a bit dizzy. . . but that's clearing away already."  
  
Indeed, he could see the man almost clearly now. It was a young chap, about 25 or 28, with short blonde hair standing up in spikes. The man couldn't have finished his mediwizard education long before. He looked nice enough to Harry.  
  
"And did you feel anything while you were unconscious?" asked Handerson further. "Anything at all, sir?"  
  
"Well, I had some nightmares . . . more than usually, and a lot clearer, too. . . but I guess that's just a side-effect of the Dementors." Then Harry smiled grimly. "It's been a long time since a Ministry employee or even sympathiser has talked to me in that manner, Mr Handerson. Did my statement under that blasted stuff finally convince you of my innocence?"  
  
Cho Chang answered that question before the medi-wizard could. "Mr Potter, I am now totally convinced of your innocence. . . as is, I believe, everybody else in this room."  
  
Harry sat up on the stretcher. It was an extraordinarily difficult and rather painful process. Then he looked at Cho. He blinked. He blinked again. Her eyes were red and swollen as though she had. . . had she cried? Why had she cried?  
  
He turned his head to look at the rest of the people.  
  
He noticed that the room was a lot emptier than before, some people must have left.  
  
The Longbottoms and Hermione, sitting in the front row, looked just like Cho did, as did many others, some of whom he didn't know. Everybody stared at him with a mixture of astonishment and sadness. The reporters took photos of him as he scanned the room.  
  
Harry looked back at Cho. "Judge Chang, could you please explain to me what happened here while I was unconscious?" he asked politely.  
  
Cho nodded. "While you were unconscious, I have ordered Mr Bentey, a Legilimency Master of the ministry, to perform a mind-view on you, since Mr Handerson could assure me that it wouldn't be any more dangerous because of your condition. You might not like the idea of everybody in this room having a look at some of your memories, but I found that it would be too long to wait for you to wake up, since we didn't know how long that would take, and I must admit, Mr Potter, that I found it too good a chance to let pass unused. There is no way to fake one's memories, especially if one is unconscious."  
  
Harry frowned. He hated the idea of all these people having rummaged through his memories.  
  
Cho continued: "During that brain-view, we saw. . . "she paused. "We saw the murder of the Weasleys through your eyes. . . among other things."  
  
"What other things?" asked Harry.  
  
Bentey spoke. "Because of your condition, Mr Potter, I could not easily direct where I was going, if you understand what I mean. I could just decide the direction, the way you were feeling, for example, and we had to wait for the right memory to come up, so to speak."  
  
"WHAT other things?" demanded Harry again, more forcefully this time.  
  
A new voice came from the back of the room.  
  
"Oh, it was most entertaining, Harry. We saw you and your uncle, you and the Ministry workers. . . and several scenes of the regular meetings that the two of us tend to have."  
  
Harry's hairs stood up on his neck. It couldn't be. . .  
  
"Having seen all these things, one really considers your life as extraordinarily. . . difficult. But do not worry. . . it will not last much longer."  
  
Slowly, Harry turned around and gazed into the blood-red eyes of the thing that he most hated and feared in the world.  
  
"RUN!" he yelled.  
  
Then all hell broke loose. 


	33. Chapter 32: Confrontations

**Chapter 32: Confrontations**

Remus had a pretty good idea where Sirius had gone. There was only one good option for him in the building, really.

The Deputy Minister's office was a very impressive room which Sirius used for more than just working. There were a huge desk with a leather armchair, many bookshelves and filing cabinets scrammed full, but a big part of the room was reserved for free time. There were a sofa and several armchairs, a big table, a CD-player and a record player, a fridge with drinks, both alcoholic and not. Sirius and Remus had spent many hours in this comfortable corner, talking, drinking, playing chess, joking. Remus couldn't think of any other place where Sirius could have gone to.

Arriving, he was surprised to find Sirius' secretary sitting behind her desk in her little office before Sirius'. So she hadn't been at the trial. So she didn't know what had happened. . . Sirius certainly hadn't told her.

"Hullo, Linda," greeted Remus grimly. "Is Sirius here?"

"Hi, Remus." She hesitated for a moment. "Yes he is, but. . . I don't think that he wants to see anybody right now. He was. . . God, Remus, I've never seen him acting anything like this! What the hell. . . I mean. . . Remus, can you tell me what happened at that trial to upset him like that?"

Remus sighed. She'd find out anyway, through others or through the papers.

"We managed to prove Harry innocent."

She blinked. "Harry Potter?"

"The very one."

"So he actually. . ." She looked astonished. "You mean it's true? What you've been announcing for weeks. . . that he was framed by Deatheaters? And that You-Know-Who is actually. . . still out there?"

"Yes."

There was a minute of silence.

"I thought that you had gone insane. . . when you were kidnapped, you know." Linda continued. "Or that Potter was manipulating you. Had hexed you. That's what Sirius always claimed. I. . . I'm sorry, Remus."

"That's alright, don't worry about it. I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't. . . seen the truth."

"You really were in his Pensieve then?"

"Yes. And those scenes – the murder of the Weasleys and the conviction afterwards – those scenes which we saw in his Pensieve were also shown in court today."

"You brought Potter's Pensieve to the trial?"

"No, no. Cho Chang wanted a brain-view. She said that she did it in order to see how the Weasleys were really murdered. . . Harry was unconscious at the time. But I think she also did it to. . . to prove Harry innocent once and for all. Because Sirius was claiming that Harry was resistant against Veritaserum. And she wanted to. . ."

Remus paused. "I do not know her motives, of course, but I think she just wanted to show people what Harry had gone through. And to see for herself, of course. It's. . . it's the best explanation, really. Everything else is rubbish. If she'd just done it for truth's sake, she could easily have waited for Harry to wake up. We knew it wouldn't take weeks or months, just a couple of hours at most."

"Why was he unconscious anyway?"

"Some prat of an auror overdosed his Veritaserum."

Linda remained silent.

"Well, I'll better go in now." said Remus. "I don't think that he'll do anything stupid, but. . . if there's anything of his old self left in him, he'll feel like shit right now."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Remus entered the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

The office really had seen better days.

One of the bookshelves had been ripped out of the wall, probably by the use of magic. Files were lying all over the ground, pages ripped out, torn parchments. The few wooden chairs that usually stood in front of the desk were lying in a corner, broken. A sword that had always hung on the wall – a present from some Asian Minister of Magic – stuck out of the valuable leather armchair behind the desk.

Sirius was standing in his free-time corner with his back to Remus.

The CD player was broken – literally - probably by the help of the sword. The table was lying sideways on the floor, its glass surface shattered. A vase had been thrown against the wall, now lying on the floor in fragments among a couple of red roses.

Sirius was facing the wall, standing next to the fridge. The fridge looked okay. Sirius had opened its door and taken out a bottle of water. He threw it against the wall, too, where it shattered into pieces.

Sirius was shaking all over, swaying while he stood and sobbing loudly, every now and then releasing a desperate scream as he threw something as hard as he could.

Remus didn't quite know what to do. He watched for a while as the man took the contents of his fridge apart. Then he decided to make himself known, for he was sure that if Sirius had noticed him enter, he would have reacted already.

"I would think twice about destroying that bottle of wine, Sirius. As far as I know it is very old and very valuable. Wasn't it a birthday present from the Minister?"

Sirius stiffened and halted for a moment out of sheer surprise, and then he threw the bottle against the wall with a loud yell and even more strength behind it than before.

Then he turned around to face Remus.

Their gazes met for a moment before Sirius turned to look at the floor.

Remus had never seen his friend in that or even in a similar state. Sirius' hair was wild from running from the courtroom to his office and from tearing some of it out, his eyes were red and swollen and his face was tear-washed. New tears kept leaking out with his continuous sobs.

"I. . . I'm so. . . I'm so . . . "

Sirius didn't manage to finish the sentence. Instead, he fell to his knees and buried his head in his hands.

Remus looked down at the mess on the floor which had been a proud man less than an hour ago. Slowly and wordlessly, he walked over to Sirius and kneeled down in front of him. He carefully drew Sirius' hands away from the face and then gently pushed the face to his body so that Sirius' forehead rested on his left shoulder. He kept one hand in Sirius' hair and laid the other one onto his back.

At first Sirius was again too stunned to react. Then he threw his arms around Remus and buried his head deeper into the other man's shoulder. The shaking of his shoulders increased as his sobs got even louder and went over to desperate wails.

They knelt like this for a long time.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The fights between Harry Potter and the Dark Lord Voldemort were a lot like the biblical David fighting Goliath. Harry was totally overpowered, and if he wanted to win or even get away with his life, he would have to be very cunning and very lucky on top of it.

At the time being, Harry was jumping and running around in the room, trying to dodge the Dark Lord's curses, and trying to think of a way out. His brain didn't seem to work peoperly, though. All Harry could think of was how hopeless the situation was, how he could never win against Voldemort with all the power he had now.

The few curses Harry had managed to hurl at his nemesis had all his him square on without showing any effect whatsoever.

Lord Voldemort found his game very amusing.

"You know that I could kill you any second, I hope, Harry?"

Harry couldn't spare the breath to answer, still dodging curses left and right.

"You're not talking to me, my friend? Did I do anything to offend you?"

And suddenly the curses stopped. Harry immediately put the strongest shielding charm onto himself that he was able to cast, although he knew that it would not hold Voldemort off for long if the maniac really decided to kill him.

"Alright, Harry. I decided that it would be a shame for us to part forever without having one last decent conversation, so let us take a little break."

Harry couldn't believe it. Once again Voldemort was hesitating to kill him. That had happened before. That had saved his life before. He had time now – a little time. He had to use it, somehow. What to do? He had to think. . .

"I find it interesting how you still fight for those naïve fools and Muggle-lovers, Harry. I simply cannot understand why."

"I wouldn't expect you to", replied Harry, getting angry.

"These people cannot give you any reward for your work", said Voldemort as though he was explaining a simple fact to a small child. "They cannot give you any power the way I can, Harry. You will lose your life for nothing but a few stupid, ignorant people who do not even deserve the pathetic lives they've got. These people you call your friends, they not only betrayed you, they are a disgrace for the wizarding world."

Harry snapped.

"The only disgrace to the wizarding world is you, Voldemort! Look in a mirror, you don't even look human anymore. You're a monster, a freak. You slay decent people because you claim they have bad blood, yet you're a MUDBLOOD yourself, the son of a bastard of a Muggle and a witch who was as much of a pathetic freak as. . ."

Harry couldn't continue the sentence because something happened, something huge that had only happened once before.

Voldemort lost control over his magical powers, the powers of his cursed medal.

- - - - - - - - - -

Remus watched his friend sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, still sobbing occasionally. Remus knew that Sirius deserved all that he was feeling now and even more, yet he couldn't help feeling sorry for him. The Deputy Minister seemed to be hurting really, really badly.

Sirius slowly lifted his head to look at Remus, and then dropped it again.

"I . . . I . . . oh my God . . . ". His voice was still strangely rough from crying. Suddenly, he chuckled. "There isn't really anything I can say, is there?"

"Oh, there is plenty", replied Remus.

They were both silent for a minute.

"Do you know why you did it?" asked Remus finally. "Why you believed Fudge over Harry?"

Sirius hesitated. "I . . . I just didn't see why he would lie. I thought he . . . I mean, he gave me the position in the Ministry. He helped me out when I . . . when I had nothing."

"You had a lot more than nothing, Sirius."

"Yes, I know", Sirius whispered. "I had all I could have asked for . . . and I lost. . . I lost it all, Remus. The only thing I didn't have was a job, a task, something to work for. I felt worthless, see. I was so happy when he gave me the job. I thought he was a saint. I thought the world of that . . . of that . . . "

"Bastard?"

"Yes", whispered Sirius.

"And Harry, Dark Wizard and murderer, would lie in order to save his neck, of course. That would make sense."

"Yes."

Again, they were silent for a while.

"Why are you here, Remus?" Sirius asked quietly.

Remus waited for a moment before answering.

"When you ran out of that courtroom, you looked as though you needed a friend rather badly."

Sirius lifted his head and looked at Remus with tearful eyes. "Will you be my friend, Remus?"

Remus smiled slightly.

"I've always been your friend, Sirius."

Before Sirius got the chance to answer, embrace Remus, burst into tears or do whatever he would have done in response to that statement, the office door burst open and a group of masked men in black robes stormed in.

Deatheaters.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When the medal suddenly radiated off a huge wave of magic, Harry was sure that all was lost.

The sheer power that hit Harry all of a sudden was incredible. He knew instinctively that he could never defend himself from it. He had to attack, throw himself into it. . . something.

What exactly Harry did would be hard to explain later on. He opened his mind to whatever it was, let the magic run through him, and pushed forwards with his own magic. He was in Voldemort, Voldemort was in him.

He knew what Voldemort knew.

Spells, curses, dark magic, so very dark that it corrupted one's soul. Plans of killings, big plans of taking over Hogwarts, taking over England, taking over the world.

He shared all of Voldemort's memories.

Killing his father, killing Muggles, killing Deatheaters, killing enemies. Fighting Dumbledore, fighting Harry Potter. Being in school, studying, out of school, studying more, hours in the library, hours on end, to get more knowledge, more and more and more. . .

He could feel the pride, the anger, the hatred of the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, most noble and powerful of all wizards, making the wizarding world glorious as it should be, stopped by Potter and Dumbledore, those muggle-loving fools, didn't know what was good for them, using their talent for the unworthy, pathetic muggles, muggles that were taking over too much, had too much space, were powerless, the powerless taking the space of the powerful, the worthless taking the space of the worthy, the mighty, the glorious. . .

Harry could feel the power coming from the medal of the Dark Lord, which was around his neck, which was in his soul.

Power, so dark, so evil, more evil than Voldemort himself. Power from hell. It would spread evil. It would create hell on earth. It was strong, the mightiest power on earth. It pulled Harry. He had to be near that power. He had to have that power. He had to be that power. . .

_No. _

The power would make him the strongest person on earth. Together with Voldemort and the medal, he could have everything, everything he wanted. . .

_No!_

Harry desperately searched for his own memories, his own morals, his own mind. This power was bad, was evil, wanted to destroy. He didn't want to destroy, he loved the world, he wanted to live there, be happy there. . .

The power was shaking. It didn't like Harry's thoughts. It couldn't understand. It had to fight. . .

Harry thought of Ron. Ron, his best friend. He had loved him more than his own life. They had had so much fun together, were always there for each other, would have died for each other without hesitating.

The power was shaking more and more. It couldn't stand it. It couldn't stand these emotions, this love. . .

Harry thought of everything he was fighting for. All his friends. Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape. . . he wasn't afraid of dying if only it saved them. They were worth dying for. Even the others. They had betrayed him, yes, and he still didn't hate them. He was still protecting them, because he wanted them to live. . .

The medal was shaking. It would burst. It would explode. Soon. It would. . .

It calmed down. The power stopped flowing. Voldemort left Harry, and Harry left Voldemort.

Harry stood up. He didn't remember falling to the ground. Shakily, he looked at his enemy. Fire, a strong, all consuming, magical fire, was spreading from where Voldemort was lying on the ground, spreading through the whole room, probably he whole building. The fire was sheer power, or was it anger, or was it fear?

Voldemort was gasping loudly, apparently a lot worse off than Harry. The monster stared at Harry in pain and panicked. Harry had fought his power. Harry had almost. . . almost. . .

Not saying a word, not casting another spell, not giving Harry the chance to follow up his mental attack with a physical one, the Dark Lord apparated to safety, away from his greatest enemy, the only one that could seriously harm him.

For a moment Harry just stared at the empty space where Voldemort had just been. He had just attacked the medal of the Dark Lord. He had almost destroyed it. He had almost. . . almost. . .

Harry only came to his senses when the bottom of his robe caught fire. He put it out with some effort. It wouldn't kill him, but it was a nuisance. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to apparate because of the wards – Voldemort hat made Apparation possible only for himself and his Deatheaters – Harry started to run out of the room, a shield protecting him from the fire. In the hallway, he heard a scream for help that made him panic once more because he recognized the voice immediately.

Albus.

"Where are you!" he yelled. Harry hated feeling so helpless. "Albus!"

"Harry!" A distant shout. "The holding cells. . ."

Harry was there in less than a minute.

Snape and Dumbledore were together, up against a wall, trying to hold the flames off with combined powers. It was getting close as the fire was spreading more and more.

"Thank God you're here, Harry", gasped Albus, looking totally exhausted. Harry extended his shield around his two friends also, and together they made their way out of the building. Neither one of them spoke a word until they finally reached the exit.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Just outside the building, the people had gathered: Everybody who had been at the trial or in any other part of the Ministry building was there, talking, pointing, and crying. Most of the people were overwhelmed with everything. Some people had been injured by the Deatheaters, but miraculously, nobody had been killed.

Hermione wondered whether Harry was okay.

This attack had only been meant to scare the people, Hermione thought. The Deatheaters could have done a lot more harm if they had wanted to. But it had still worked. Voldemort had demonstrated his power to the world. Everybody would fear him now. Maybe some people would join him out of fear. Hermione wasn't really sure what the plan behind it was. What good was the people's fear for Voldemort?

She hoped that Harry had somehow survived. It had been minutes since she had left the building with everybody else. How long can you survive against Lord Voldemort in a life-or-death duel?

Then the fire broke out. It was a magical fire, obviously, because it spread faster than a normal one, looked darker, and burned things down faster, too. Some aurors tried to extinguish it. Fools. As if they could do something against a curse of the Dark Lord. . .

Hermione just hoped that this fire wasn't some morbid sign of triumph that Voldemort had cast after killing. . .

_No, he's not dead!_

But Voldemort couldn't be dead either, because Harry, surely, would never create such a terrible fire, and why should he? So if Voldemort was alive, how could Harry, after all this time, still be dueling him? Shouldn't one of them have turned out the winner now, while the other one would be . . .?

_No girl, you must not think that!_

When Harry finally did run out of the main entrance together with Dumbledore and Snape, Hermione knew she had never felt more relieved. Of course, Harry had had to play the hero, first making sure that the whole building was empty of people.

But of course it wasn't, and she knew it.

Anyway, if Harry was alive and well, then was Voldemort . . .

_Don't get too hopeful._

Hermione ran up to Harry, who was stared at in amazement by everybody that could see him, and soon the crowd had only one subject left: Harry Potter, the innocent man, hero of the wizarding world, had once again fought Voldemort and lived. How he had done it, nobody had any idea.

"Harry!"

Harry smiled slightly as Hermione ran up to him and hugged him fiercely.

"I'm so . . . I'm so glad you're okay . . . I thought you were . . . Harry, I thought that Voldmort had . . ." Hermione started to cry.

"Shh . . . I'm okay . . . he didn't even hurt me, Mione. I'm fine", he whispered.

"You were gone for so long, I thought . . . God, Harry, I was so scared . . ."

"I know. Look at me, Mione. I'm fine" Harry whispered. He was uncomfortably aware of the stares they were getting from the huge crowd, and Harry was sure they would have got those stares even if he had not had a sobbing Hermione in his arms.

"Harry . . . Remus and Sirius, they . . ."

Harry drew away. "They what?"

He looked around, but the fact that that he didn't see them amongst all those people didn't necessarily mean that they weren't there, did it?

"They're still in the building", informed Hermione. "I'm not sure if you can still go in there, the fire . . ."

"Of course I can still go in. It's not that bad", Harry replied.

He turned to Dumbledore, who was talking to some aurors, explaining why Snape was not dangerous, not evil, didn't need to be locked up, and anyway, there was no place to lock them up, wasn't that right?

"Albus, there are still people in there, I'm going in. Can you try to get the power down?"

Albus didn't look surprised. "I will do what I can, and I am sure that there are many willing to assist me. Do you want to go alone?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

Without any further words, Harry entered the building, ignoring the Oohs and Aahs of the people behind him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Stupefy!" yelled Remus, sending one Deatheater to the floor, unconscious.

It didn't make a difference at all, they were so many.

A second later, he himself was hit by a Cruciatus which made him drop his wand and fall, too, but screaming in pain. It was ended when Sirius took the Deatheater out, before struggling to defend himself from three others.

Before Remus was back on his feet, several men started throwing spells at him. He knew his shield wouldn't hold up forever, and neither would Sirius'. It wasn't going well at all.

When a fire broke out of nowhere suddenly, it surprised the Deatheaters as much as them. From one moment to the next, everything was in flames. It was what saved them in the end.

With a loud yell, one of the attackers realized that he was on fire – and a magical fire, too. It could not be put out as easily. When some of the other Deatheaters went to help the man, it looked much better for Sirius and Remus.

A minute later, half of the attackers were stupefied, the fire on the one man was finally put out, but as a result, the Deatheaters had the disadvantage now. It took another two minutes to end the duel; the Deatheaters were down.

"Let's see if we can do something against this fire", suggested Sirius.

They could not. Every spell they tried, every curse, was no use. Trying to put it out without using magic (stamping on it, suffocating it, using normal water) didn't work either.

"Awesome. We survive fighting ten or so Deatheaters to be killed in some magical fire", commented Remus.

Sirius didn't reply.

"HELP!" screamed the werewolf. "CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?"

Sirius snorted. "Oh come on. Like anybody is running around in here who can help us with this . . ."

"Shh!" snapped Remus. "Listen!"

Now Sirius heard it, too. There was a distant shout.

"HELP!" they screamed together.

A minute later, after a lot of panicked yelling on both sides, and the very second when Sirius' long robe caught on fire, Harry magically blew the door into thousands of peaces and stormed into the room, carrying a lifeless blonde in his arms.

"Linda!" gasped Sirius.

The fire on his robes immediately extinguished when Harry stepped in between Sirius and Remus. "She's just unconscious, nothing to worry about.

"How . . ."

"A shield", Harry explained. "Can one of you take the girl? I'm rather busy with the fire."

Sirius gathered his secretary up in his arms, and the three men made their way out through the building, neither one saying a word because of the concentrated look on Harry's face.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Caitlyn couldn't understand how people could take it. Like aurors, for example, fighting those terrible . . .

For no money in the world would she ever encounter on of them if she could avoid it.

It still hurt like hell, every nerve in her body. It was tearing her apart. Of course the aftereffects were nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the original pain, which made you want to die . . .

It had been her first time under the Cruciatus curse, and for no money in the world would she subject herself to it again. She would rather die first.

_You mustn't think about that!_

No, dwelling on it was the worst thing she could do now. It would only hurt her. It would only distract her from her mission, her very important mission. Lives depended on it, because as far as Caitlyn knew, she was the only one that had managed to disapparate from the gruesome massacre.

_Must get help!_

The mediwitch tried to forget about her own sorrow and focused on the task ahead. Get aurors. She knew that the Potter trial was being held at the Ministry headquarters. Surely, they would have a lot of security there. The aurors would come to her aid immediately. The patients would be saved. They had to be.

She disapparated again, to the front yard of the Ministry headquarters.

With a surprised gasp, Caitlyn materialized in the middle of a huge crowd. What were all those people doing there? What was going on?

In the background, the Ministry building was totally burned down.

What the . . .

"Are there any aurors around?" she asked a random person standing next to her.

The man ignored her.

"Can somebody help, please? I need . . ."

Nobody even looked at her.

Looking around, Caitlyn noticed that the people looked pretty worn, to say the least. A lot of them were crying.

What had burned the Ministry building down?

Caitlyn couldn't make any sense of any of it, but she knew that her emergency needed immediate attention, and nobody had even answered her so far.

She cast a Sonorus charm onto herself.

"HELP!"

With her voice magically made so loud that the people near her clasped their hands onto their ears, the mediwitch had everybody's - and really everybody's – attention at once.

"I NEED HELP! AURORS!"

A woman pushed through the crowd to her. She knew her from the newspaper articles. Hermione Granger, the Hogwarts teacher that had been kidnapped by Potter, driven insane, and after being rescued started announcing the traitor's innocence.

Hermione Granger was known to be a powerful witch. Caitlyn didn't care if she was insane, as long as she could help.

"What's wrong?" Hermione Granger asked.

"St. Mungo's! It's being attacked by Deatheaters!"

Screams and wails followed. The crowd was scared, many of them having friends or relatives in the hospital. Deatheaters were now in St. Mungo's, too. No place was save.

"Are you leaving, Harry, or are you too tired?" Granger asked a man that had just walked up next to her.

Caitlyn stared at him. She opened her mouth to cast a spell, to warn the people, to scream in sheer panic. Didn't they see the man? Standing here, amidst the crowd, was the powerful mass murderer, feared traitor, Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter. . .

"So tired that I'll rest while a group of innocent people is being slain by Deatheaters? Hermione, what do you think of me?"

The very moment Harry Potter and Hermione Granger disapparated together, Caitlyn fainted and dropped into the arms of a shocked man standing behind her in the crowd.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sirius watched Harry, Hermione, and a moment later Dumbledore disapparate.

St. Mungo's was under attack by Deatheaters. This was as bad a situation as there could be. They had to be quick to save as many people as possible. They had to follow a strategy. The job had to be done properly, it was vital.

Sirius quickly conjured up a big wooden box and stood upon it, so that his head could be seen above the crowd.

"Aurors!" he yelled imperiously, "to me! Then divide into sections of no more than ten people! We will attack from different locations and work our way up from –"

He stopped suddenly as he realized that his men were not following his command as usually.

He swallowed and looked around. The aurors were looking at him with disgust, anger, and mistrust.

Sirius sighed quietly. He understood why they didn't trust him, a man who had betrayed his own godson, who only had the position that he held because his boss could get him to do anything he wanted.

Somebody tugged at his robes. Sirius looked down into Neville Longbottom's serious face.

"Mind if I take over? No offense, Sirius, but this isn't working, and we have to be fast here", he said.

Sirius nodded and jumped down to the ground without looking at any aurors again. Then he walked a few steps away and watched as Neville assembled the aurors and yelled out the exact orders that he, Sirius, would have given the men. They disapparated. All this happened in no more than thirty seconds.

Then Remus walked up to him.

"So you're not planning to fight at all, Sirius?"

Sirius sighed. "I'm not an auror anymore."

"That's rubbish, and you know it", snapped Remus, sounding a little angry. "Nothing has changed in the last half hour or so. You haven't been official fired or anything. And even if you weren't still –"

"Everything has changed, Remus! I cannot rightfully command these men, call myself a civil servant, after what I have done . . ."

"Will you HEAR ME OUT!"

Sirius was silent at once.

Remus' voice resumed its normal, quiet tone. "Even if you were not an auror, you don't _need_ to be, Sirius! Hermione is fighting right now! Dumbledore, McGonagall, Harry of course . . . Damn it, Sirius, _I'm_ far from being an auror, but I'm going right now, with or without you. Who knows, maybe I can save a life."

Without another word, Remus turned around and apparated away.

For a moment, Sirius just stared at the place where the man had been. He couldn't help smiling a little.

"What would I do without you, Moony?"

Then he followed his friend.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It took a long time to get the situation at St. Mungo's under control.

The aurors were as many as the Deatheaters, but they were less experienced and worse trained duelers. The aurors barely managed to protect themselves from the masked men, protecting the patients of the hospital was beyond their ability.

What saved them in the end was the presence of individual non-Ministry fighters like Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Dumbledore's strategic and effective dueling style amazed all those who had never witnessed the old man fight, as did the sheer power that Potter put behind each of his spells and curses, taking out up to five Deatheaters with one spell.

Potter and Dumbledore ran through the building from bottom to top, making the Deatheaters unconscious and running on.

When the mass duel had finally ended, the casualties were nine dead aurors, one dead Deatheater of a low rank, who had accidentally stumbled in front of a killing curse that had been meant for Neville Longbottom, and a rather large number of St. Mungo's patients and staff that they had been too late to save.

Still panting heavily, Harry Potter could be found leaning against a wall after the battle, looking at the battlefield that was meant to be a place of recovery from illness, not a place of death.

"This is so wrong . . ." muttered Harry to nobody in particular.

"Yes, it is."

Harry turned his head. He hadn't noticed Hermione coming up to him. She looked worn and as tired as he felt.

"Look at all those bodies", continued Harry. "This is a hospital, for Merlin's sake. This house is supposed to be peaceful and . . ."

He didn't continue as a Deatheater sprang out of one of the rooms adjacent to the hallway. He must have hidden there. They had missed one.

"AVADA . . ."

The aurors stared in shock and surprise. They hadn't expected this. They were caught unawares. They didn't know what to do.

They didn't do anything.

". . . KEDAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Hit in the chest by a fast red light emerging straight from Harry's hand, the man flew twenty meters through the air before crashing into the wall at the very end of the hallway, headfirst.

Harry Potter blacked out simultaneously with the Deatheater.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His head hurt. Oh, his head hurt so much . . .

". . . the worst case of magical exhaustion I've ever encountered, Albus . . ."

Harry knew that voice.

"It's no wonder either, after everything he went through yesterday. I mean, first being overdosed with Veritaserum, I don't understand how they let these incompetents work for the Ministry in these dark days . . ."

It was Madam Pomfrey's voice.

"And then, fighting the Dark Lord, God only knows what the poor boy must have gone through. It's a miracle he got away with his life, Albus . . ."

The presence of both Madam Pomfrey and Albus Dumbledore could only mean one thing . . .

"And then, the duel at St. Mungo's! As much as we all appreciate Mr Potter's . . . dedication – I'm sure he saved many lives again, no question . . . but Albus, the boy must really learn to be more careful when he's fighting, and to stop when he notices that he's getting exhausted to the point of collapse. I mean . . ."

Harry was in the Hospital Wing. The freaking Hospital Wing of Hogwarts.

He wouldn't be able to leave the darned place until Madam Pomfrey decided he was completely fit again . . .

. . . which would be ages . . .

Harry groaned quietly, less out of pain than out of frustration.

"Aah, Mister Potter!" exclaimed the suddenly cheerful voice of the mediwitch. "It's good to have you with us again. I have certain medications that I want you to take before you fall asleep again, which I know you will soon . . ."

Harry groaned again.

"Yes, dear, I know you're hurting. I'll be just a minute. Don't fall asleep, Mr Potter!"

Hurriedly, Madame Pomfrey left the room.

Harry opened his eyes when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the hand of a smiling Albus Dumbledore.

Harry tried to smile back.

"How are you doing, Harry?"

"I'm fine", said Harry lazily. He was already feeling very tired again.

"I'm sorry this really isn't a good time for a chat, Harry, but I must say I'm really curious. Can you tell me what happened when you fought Voldemort? How you survived it?" Albus asked quietly.

"Yeah . . . yeah, tell you", answered Harry, but instead of talking, he just closed his eyes again and nuzzled himself deeper into his comfortable hospital bed.

"Yes, I understand you're tired, Harry. It must have been very hard, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, t'was hard. Curses and all . . ."

"How did you manage to flee? What did you do?"

"Didn't flee."

"You didn't flee?" Dumbledore sounded surprised. "But if you didn't flee, Harry, how are you still alive?"

"He fled."

"Voldemort fled from you?" Dumbledore was beginning to get worried. Was Harry delirious?

"Yeah."

"Why, Harry? Why did Voldemort flee?"

"Almost . . . killed him."

Harry's voice was getting quieter and quieter.

Dumbledore couldn't believe his ears.

"What . . . Harry, you just said you almost killed-"

"Yeah, almost. Next time . . ."

Harry had a smile on his face.

"Next time I'll finish him off . . ."

The smile on Harry's face as he fell into a deep sleep would have been a lot wider had he seem Dumbledore's gaping mouth, a very extraordinary sight.

Author's Note:

I know it has been ages since I last updated this, and I'm really sorry about it. I'll try to update more regularly from now on.

My exchange year in the States was awesome. There are no words to express how great it was. I was in Marietta, GA. My high school was great. I was in Marching Band, Indoor Drumline and Jazzband. The people were great and I made some good friends. Church (I'm a catholic) was a lot more fun than it is here, too. A great experience, I'd go back immediately if I could. Germany's cool, too, though. But I recommend an exchange year to everybody who gets the chance.


	34. Chapter 34: Three months later

**Chapter 33:**** Life at Hogwarts, three months later**

Looking out at the grounds, Harry couldn't help but think back to all the happy, carefree times he had spent there with his friends, studying and talking. Hogwarts was really the most beautiful place he had ever been to in his life.

Harry knew that he couldn't stand to see it destroyed. Hogwarts had been such a big part of the youth of generations and generations of British wizarding people. If Hogwarts fell, all happiness and all hope would fall with it, especially now that half of the wizarding population had moved there because of the security of the castle. It had been almost three months since Voldemort and his followers had destroyed the Ministry headquarters and attacked St. Mungo's hospital. After those events, one deatheater attack had followed another, so that nobody who did not openly support the Dark forces felt safe anymore – that is, the people did not feel safe anymore anywhere other than at Hogwarts, which the headmaster and the teachers had opened as a sanctuary for all in fear of the Dark Lord, an offer they were gratefully taken up on by hundreds of people who had come to the former school – for in these days of all-out war, Hogwarts staff and students had more things to do than to uphold their standard classes and routines.

That was the other reason why it would be disastrous if Hogwarts fell. The castle was the only really safe place in the country. Without it, the people would have no place to hide from Voldemort. They would be defenceless. They would be at his mercy. And it was likely that several hundreds of them would be killed in the Hogwarts attack alone, if the Dark Lord really did decide to attack the castle directly.

Harry sighed quietly.

When he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, he was so surprised that he spun around and had his wand pointed at the face of his "attacker" before he even realized who it was.

The person standing behind him was Hermione. He hadn't even notice her walk up to him.

Harry quickly withdrew his wand and muttered a quiet "sorry", but Hermione didn't seem startled or disturbed by his reflex. Instead, she smiled down at him sadly. As Harry turned back around, she stood next to him and imitated his position. Now they both stood there looking out at the grounds.

"It's so beautiful," whispered Hermione after a minute.

"That's what I was thinking."

Hermione smiled. "I know."

So she did. Harry was glad to have Hermione with him at that moment. She had remained his closest friend through all those years, and she was the person who knew him best.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked.

Harry smiled. Of course Hermione knew that there was something big on his mind, something important. He also realized that it would do him some good to talk about it. And if he couldn't talk about this to Hermione, then _who_ could he confide in?

Harry took a deep breath.

"I'm scared, Hermione", he finally admitted, still looking out of the window.

She didn't say anything, which Harry took as an invitation to continue.

"I'm scared of my fight with Voldemort. I don't want to feel any curse of his blasted medal ever again in my life – it hurts worse than a Cruciatus, I can stand _that_. . . God, Hermione, just thinking about what he might do to me makes me want to run away or to hide behind somebody who can protect me from all evil. You know, I never show it, I. . . I laugh it all away. . . I act like I'm not scared of dying at all, but . . . but I really am. I don't want to die, Hermione. I'm enjoying my life in spite of everything that's wrong with it – and I don't want my life to end. I know there's a chance I'll win, I found that out at the Ministry. But there's also a chance I'll lose - a big chance. But I can't lose, Hermione. I absolutely must not lose. There's so much depending on it . . ."

Harry paused for a moment and took a few deep breaths. Hermione still didn't interrupt him, but gave him all the time he needed to say what he wanted to say. He was grateful for that. There really wasn't anything she could have said to make the situation look better. The situation could not be changed that easily. But Hermione's mere presence and her willingness to just listen was very comforting to Harry.

"You know, Mione, what I'm most afraid of . . . what really terrifies me is the thought of what will happen _after_ Voldemort wins. I mean, imagine if he attacked the castle and I duelled with him and lost . . . and with all the people here . . . he'd kill Dumbledore first because he's the most dangerous . . . then he'd kill you because you're a Muggleborn and my friend on top of that . . . he'd kill Snape because he supported me, that makes him a traitor to Voldemort. . . he'd kill Minerva and Remus and Sirius and Fred and George and Neville and Ginny and . . . he'd kill _all_ of the former Order of the Phoenix . . . damn it, Hermione, if Voldemort won, he'd . . . he'd kill _everybody_ who doesn't support him . . . Hogwarts would become his Dark Fortress or something, and the people would have two options: join him or be killed by him."

Harry clenched his hands to fists. He was shaking all over now, and he still refused to look at Hermione. Thankfully, she didn't interrupt him.

"You know, Hermione, when I received my Hogwarts letter and came to this wonderful school and entered the wizarding world, it was a dream come true for me. I know there are many things wrong with the wizarding world, especially with its government – I've experienced them first-hand . . . but when I see the whole package, I can't help but love it. In spite of everything it did to me, I just love it. And the thought . . . that this world might be completely changed, completely destroyed by that maniac and his followers . . . just terrifies me, Mione. And knowing that according to that stupid prophecy, the only person who can prevent that from happening is _me . . ._"

Harry stopped talking there, and Hermione laid her arm around his shoulder as he took some deep breaths in order to calm himself down.

"I'd love to tell you that your fears were totally unreasonable, but they're not, Harry", she finally said. "It is a terrible situation and it is unimaginable what will happen if we lose this war. The only comforting thing I can tell you is that I know you're as well prepared for the upcoming battle as you can possibly be – why, you haven't done much but study and practice for months on end. So if we really lose, it will be because he is simply unstoppable by now, not because of any lack of effort on our part."

Harry nodded tiredly. He knew that they were prepared. The question was, was it enough? Or was there something important, another piece of information, a spell, a curse, that would make the difference between winning and losing the final duel, that Harry would find if he just tried harder, studied longer, spent a little less time sleeping or eating . . .

"Oh come on, Harry, you know I'm right", Hermione said. "You're doing everything you can, that's obvious to everybody but yourself, it seems. Finally stop questioning yourself."

Harry nodded, wondering how she had known his exact thoughts once again. Was she a mind-reader after all?

"And you know what?" Hermione interrupted his thoughts, sounding even a tad cheerful.

"What?" Harry asked.

"If there is a God out there, Harry . . . that horror scenario you just painted will never come true."

With that and a final squeeze of his shoulder, Hermione left Harry alone again.

"I sure hope you're right, Hermione", Harry whispered long after she had gone. "I sure hope you're right."

The weakest point of Hogwarts castle was its main entrance door, the one connecting the grounds with the Entrance Hall. The wards on the large wooden door were lowered to allow faster entry and exit, which was important because it was through this door that large numbers of wizards and witches from all over the country came every day seeking refuge from Voldemort and his large circle of supporters.

When a charm informed him that there was another person standing outside wanting to be let in, the man in charge of permitting entry sighed. It was the seventeenth person that day and accommodation was getting scarce.

"Please state your name and your business", he said.

But there was no answer. That was new.

"Please state your name and your business", the man repeated, louder. But the person outside the door should have heard him clearly the first time. There was a charm on the door that worked similar to a sonorus charm.

Then the door started shaking.

"What the…" The man spun around and stared at the guards who were there in case of an emergency. They looked as nervous as he felt.

A moment later, a huge hole was blast into the big wooden door, easily large enough to allow several people to enter through it at once. Behind the hole, there was a man wearing a large black cloak, the head mostly hidden by its hood. What would otherwise have been visible of his face was covered by a white mask. That was the typical dress of a Deatheater.

The guards of the Entrance Hall were comparatively many, and there were even a few aurors amongst them, but they were not prepared for an attack. They were not prepared for much.

Five in a row were stunned before any others reacted. Taking out those he knew to be aurors first, the attacker didn't have a hard time dodging the curses that followed. They were a lot slower and weaker. He let some be deflected by his shield. In the end, all guards were unconscious, and he wasn't even injured.

He smirked. "This is ridiculously easy." The attacker wondered what his partner was doing.

The other man was rather successful, too. Having taken another entrance, he encountered a lot fewer security measures. The entrance of the secret passageway was only guarded by two aurors, who were taken completely by surprise when it suddenly opened. Bewildered and afraid, they stared into the dark tunnel, but there was no attacker in sight.

"Is anybody there?" A stupid question.

The auror fell, hit by a stunning spell. His partner followed a moment later.

The attacker smirked at his triumph, then took his invisibility cloak off and looked down at the two men with disgust.

"I find it amazing that such a simple device as this cloak renders the Ministry's top people completely helpless", he hissed at them. Then he turned away from them and walked down the corridor with long steps, the black Deatheater's cloak billowing behind him. As he walked, he shrunk the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it in his pocked. He wanted to be as mobile as possible for the mission that followed. He was, after all, trying to get to the Headmaster's office, and there was a great many capable people he might encounter on the way.

The first people he met on his way were a group of teenage girls of about fourteen or fifteen years of age. They screamed and ran. He smirked. They were so easy to scare. The next person he saw walked alone, straight up to the masked man. It was an adult man he didn't know – he figured that it must be one of the many refugees that had come to Hogwarts for security from the Dark Lord.

When the man realized what he was seeing, he stopped dead in his tracks and gasped, taking a few careful steps back.

"De… deatheater…" he whispered.

The other man smirked. Apparently, that was another one who was about to run in fear although he hadn't done anything yet.

Shakily, the man pointed his wand at the Deatheater.

"Don't… don't come any nearer, I'm warning you…"

The Deatheater laughed. "Foolish mudblood. Do you honestly believe that you can shoot anything at me that will even pass through my shield?"

Taking a few more steps back, the man seemed to consider this. What would happen if he attacked that person? He was outmatched. He would be disarmed immediately. No. He would be killed immediately. There was no saving himself. But perhaps… perhaps there was something he could do.

With sudden determination, he pointed his wand at his own throat and, before the Deatheater could react, cast a charm with as much power as he could muster. A Sonorus charm which allowed his voice to be heard in a large part of the whole castle.

"THERE IS A DEATHEATER ON THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE SOUTH WING! ALARM! THERE IS A DEATHEATER ON THE SECOND FLOOR OF…"

"STUPEFY!"

The man lay, but not before he had successfully called the alarm.

Walking past him, the Deatheater glanced down at him with something akin to respect.

"Well, you certainly made things interesting."

He could already hear the footsteps of running people, as well as some panicked screaming. Most of them, he was sure, were running as far away from him as they could. But some would surely come for him to take care of him, nobly risking their own lives, or maybe they were even so arrogant as to think that they could easily take down a Deatheater with a group.

And indeed, the first two people who came sprinting down the corridor towards him were two of the most stereotypical Gryffindors he had ever known. But they were two of the most powerful ones, as well. Sirius Black and Minerva McGonagall started their attack together with so much speed and power that the masked man had serious trouble dodging one while blocking the other curse. Luckily, his shield still held.

"Stupefy", he yelled, pointing his wand at Black. But Black was too fast for him, dodging the spell and countering immediately with another one. They duelled back and forth for a while, until eventually the Deatheater, tiring fast in his fierce battle against two skilled opponents, jumped out of the way of McGonagall's "Expelliamus", only to position himself perfectly in front of a full body bind coming from Sirius Black's wand, that hit him square in the chest.

The Deatheater fell and landed on the floor on his back. He lay unmoving.

"I hope that hurt", muttered Black, who was in some pain himself from a nasty curse that had hit him in the arm and from a bruise that was forming where he had hit his head against the wall while dodging a spell his opponent had sent his way. He had to admit that that masked bastard was a good dueller.

McGonagall meanwhile tipped her wand against her throat and then against the wall, all the while muttering some obscure curse.

"What are you doing?" asked Sirius. His question was answered when she spoke and her voice seemed to come out of the walls around him. He was suddenly sure she could now be heard in all parts of the castle. An interesting system.

"DO NOT PANIC. THE CASTLE IS UNDER ATTACK. DEATHEATERS HAVE PENETRATED THE SECURITY WARDS. ASSEMBLE IN AND AROUND THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY. I REPEAT, ASSEMBLE IN AND AROUND THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT PANIC. EVERYTHING IS BEING DONE TO ENSURE YOUR SAFETY."

"Well done", congratulated Sirius. "The only problem is that the Deatheaters will know where everybody is going, too."

"Yes, that is a shame", replied Minerva. "But this was the best way to handle the situation. It is certainly better than to have Deatheaters roam the castle freely and… harm people left and right without anybody being the wiser. And the Great Hall has better security than any other part of the castle. If the people are not safe there, I do not know where they might be."

During their conversation, they never took their wands off of the Deatheater on the floor, in case he might suddenly shake the curse off and stand up. It was rare, but known to have happened.

"How do you think they got in?" mumbled Sirius.

"I've been wondering that myself", said Minerva. "And with all the security wards that are in place right now, I can only think of one explanation."

Sirius nodded. "Yes. There must be a mole among us. And it must be a very trusted person, to have got information about the wards."

Walking slowly, they reached the Deatheater on the floor, their wands still trained on the masked man. Sirius bent down to take the mask off of him.

"Let me see your face, you cowardly bastard."

When he tore it off ruggedly, he gasped, staring into a very familiar face.

"SNAPE?"

He could not believe his eyes. Severus Snape had joined the Deatheaters in an attack on the castle. He had been convinced that Snape was on their side, especially after his time in Azkaban. Harry had rescued the man and they had been practically best friends from that day on, living together and training together for the upcoming battle.

So it had been an act all along. Snape had never supported them. He had never been friends with Harry. He had used Harry. He had betrayed Harry. Snape had given all the information to the Dark Lord. Snape was the mole. Snape must be the mole. Of course. That was the only way the attack could have worked.

Sirius' expression turned from one of surprise to one of fury and deep hatred.

"YOU TRAITOR!"

Because of the body bind, Severus Snape could not move out of the way, say a word or react in any way as Sirius Black's fist swung through the air and collided painfully with his face.

##################################################

The other man did not lose his Deatheater's mask until later.

Running down the corridors of Hogwarts, he sent stunning spells left and right, hitting most wizards and witches before they had the chance to react. His speed, it seemed, was his greatest weapon. The few people who did dare to shoot a curse his way missed because their target was moving so fast. The two or three stunning spells that did hit some part of his body were easily deflected by the shield charm he had cast upon himself. Only once did a curse penetrate his shield: it was a nasty, painful curse that bordered on the Dark Arts. Furious, he disarmed the caster, a Ministry official, before sending a stunner at the man that sent him flying ten feet through the air before crashing into an armour. Served him right.

As the Deatheater healed himself with a skilful movement of his wand, running on, he heard the loud and clear voice of Minerva McGonagall, warning of a Deatheater attack and ordering people into the Great Hall. This is perfect, he thought. If he got there fast enough, he might be able to enter before they could strengthen the wards…

And he did enter. It was close, however. There were ten or twenty aurors guarding the entrance to the Great Hall. The Deatheater cast an invisibility spell on himself and stood in a corner where masses of panicking people who were now rushing into the Great Hall were unlikely to bump into him. From there, he froze the aurors, one by one, just as they were beginning to activate the strongest security enchantments that had been cast on the room – enchantments which had to be activated in case of emergency because they could only be kept up for a limited amount of time.

The Deatheater was severely tempted to laugh at those fools, and in the midst of the chaos, he did not even think anybody would notice. The aurors were standing in the same positions as when he had arrived, unmovingly – and the Hogwarts inhabitants were in such a hurry to find a place in the great hall (which they knew did not have room for all of them) that most of them did not look at the aurors long enough to notice the state they were in. The few who did notice did not act.

The only thing left for the Deatheater to do was to calmly walk into the Great Hall amidst the panicking people. Once in, he continued, as before, to shoot stunning spells and disarming spells left and right. Few people dared to cast anything back at the still invisible man out of fear that they might miss him and hit each other, and indeed, those who did try to fight back only decreased their own number.

Things looked quite poorly for the people of Hogwarts until – after an eternity, it seemed –, Albus Dumbledore entered the scene. With a quick wand movement, the headmaster of Hogwarts cast a Finite Incantatum spell which affected all of the Great Hall: suddenly, grey hair, skin problems and other little imperfections which people had hidden magically became visible (something many would later laugh or curse about), and visible, too, became the attacking Deatheater.

A wide circle was cleared around Dumbledore and the Deatheater immediately. The people of Hogwarts stood still, tense, and watched in awe what was for most of them the most spectacular wizards' duel they had ever witnessed.

Albus Dumbledore's first interest was to protect the people, which he did by casting a strong, large shielding charm just at the rim of the circle which had been cleared for him and his enemy. That, however, gave him a large disadvantage, for the Deatheater attacked him with a fast series of all kinds of spells and curses, which were difficult for Dumbledore to avoid or deflect while he was busy constructing such a strong shield.

Things changed, however, once the headmaster was fully able to enter into the fight. Albus Dumbledore was an expert dueller – in fact, one of the very best the wizarding world had ever seen. He was surprised that his opponent held his ground as long as he did – he had expected he would overpower the man rather easily, but Voldemort's men, he concluded, were not to be underestimated. But still, the fight did not last long. The Deatheater shot mostly harmless curses – with much power behind them, yes, but still mostly harmless curses which posed little threat to Dumbledore. Likewise, the stunning spells and disarming spells which Dumbledore shot at the Deatheater were not affective at all. Finally, the headmaster decided he had no choice but to use a more serious range of curses in order to take out his enemy – these were not his favourite spells, but the opponent was a Deatheater and they were surrounded by a mass of innocent people. The sooner this duel ended, the better.

When Dumbledore started shooting harmful spells and curses, the Deatheater became visibly uncomfortable, becoming more and more defensive, and still failing, for some reason, to send harmful curses of his own back at Dumbledore. But few people realized his duelling style was very atypical for a follower of the Dark Lord.

Finally, when Dumbledore had surrounded his enemy by a ring of fire that kept closing in on him, the man dropped his wand and yelled: "I surrender!"

Dumbledore knew that voice, but in the heat of the moment he did not realize whose it was before he had disarmed the man, had disposed of the fire ring with a flick of his wand, and approached his enemy, his wand pointed steadily at the man's chest.

Then the Deatheater dropped his hood and pulled down his mask.

What followed were surprised gasps and relieved talking when the people finally realized that this wasn't a Deatheater, but Harry Potter. Harry Potter, their hero, their saviour, the man they relied on to rid them of the Dark Lord and his followers. Potter must have been testing them or playing a game of some sorts. Many people were immediately outraged that he had scared them so much and that he had carelessly caused a dangerous situation – somebody could have been hurt in the panic.

Albus next to him sighed in relief. "You almost got me there, Harry", he said, smiling, just loud enough for most of the people to hear.

The people laughed. They found it amusing.

Harry was furious.

"Are you all out of your minds?" he screamed.

There was silence immediately.

"You think this is funny?"

Nobody said a word.

"You think this was a nice little joke of mine, don't you?"

Silence.

"You seem awfully glad I'm not a Deatheater. Well, I'll tell you what – I might have been!"

Now they looked ashamed.

"I didn't do anything a Deatheater couldn't have done. I didn't even use any wandless magic! I just walked up and started shooting easy curses, and you were completely _helpless_."

Harry looked at Albus.

"Take a guess how many people I stunned or disarmed before you arrived here and occupied my attention."

Albus sighed. "It must have been quite a number, judging from your reaction."

"Sixty-three, Albus, sixty-three people! And I'm _one person_! And I shot the curses _one by one_, I only had a pretty weak shield on myself, and _nobody_ managed to stop me! I don't find that funny at all! Imagine I had been a Deatheater, and all my stunning spells had been killing curses. Sixty-three people would have died because nobody in this damned castle seems to be taking the situation seriously! Well, yes, there is a lot of security here, but you can't rely on that! You can't rely on the wards and the aurors. The wards will fall eventually, and the aurors can't be everywhere at the same time. You'll have to be able to defend yourselves to a certain degree!"

Now most people looked shocked and terrified. Harry sighed. The outcome of this test had been pathetic, but at least Harry had got his message across.

More quietly, he added: "Please make sure you're better prepared than this when Voldemort really attacks. I would like to minimize the number of casualties."

And under the stares of everybody in the Great Hall, he said a short "See you later" to Albus and walked away. Harry had work of his own to do.

Back in the Chamber of Secrets, one of very few places in Hogwarts where Harry could still enjoy a little solitude, he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and, feeling that being angry at the people in Hogwarts was a waste of his precious time and energy, he picked up Godric Gryffindor's diary. Hello again, my friend, Harry wrote. About every other day now, he would pick up his quill and address Godric Gryffindor, or his memory rather, in the ancient wizard's diary. They would discuss, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, Harry's training, the safety measures that Dumbledore and his crew had applied to the castle, and the doings of Voldemort. Harry had a feeling that Gryffindor would prove a to be a valuable ally in the end.

Hello, young Harry, Godric replied. How are you proceeding with your training?

Harry hesitated, a little embarrassed. Not as quickly as I had hoped, he finally wrote.

Have you been distracted?

Voldemort's people do not rest, Harry answered. We keep getting note of new attacks. There were four yesterday and three this morning. And he does not limit them to Britain anymore. We went to Hamburg this morning, northern Germany, from where a woman from an old pureblood family had called for help. Apparently her husband had been asked to join forces with Voldemort and refused. Harry shuddered, remembering. They killed the father of the family and the eldest son before she could call for help. We got there just in time to save the woman and her two other children. It was a terrible sight.

Harry didn't exactly know why, but it always calmed him to write to Godric Gryffindor about slaughters, for lack of a more fitting term, committed by the deatheaters. Godric was not a real person, but the memory of a powerful warrior, so Harry could tell him things that he would never tell Hermione or any of the other Order members that were not part of the rescue group because he knew it would frighten and discourage them. The people not involved in counteracting deatheater raids were told the statistics, which was bad enough. The bloody details Harry and the aurors kept to themselves.

Godric answered: You should not always go to fight against those deatheaters, it costs too much of your energy.

We must go, Harry wrote, surprised at that suggestion. If we don't help those people, they will die in much larger numbers. Not helping is not an option.

I do not mean the group, Harry. I mean yourself. Let the aurors do the job alone, they are trained for it.

Harry sighed. Albus had already suggested the same thing, but it didn't feel right to him to let others fight off deatheaters while he stayed behind when he knew that he was a better dueller and that their chances at success were far greater when he fought alongside the aurors.

Before he could argue thus with Godric Gryffindor, another line of writing appeared in the book.

How will you kill Voldemort?

Harry was startled. We have already discussed that. I haven't got any new ideas, he wrote.

Tell me how.

Sometimes, Harry thought, having a conversation with Godric Gryffindor reminded him a lot of the many conversations he'd had with Dumbledore. Both older men would speak in riddles a lot and only let Harry get little bits and pieces of information at a time, letting him arrive at the conclusion they wanted him to see at a time of their choice.

Annoyed at what Harry thought was an unnecessarily slow progress of the conversation, he decided that if he wanted any help from Gryffindor at all, he would, as so often, have to play along with the game.

I will beat him with what you call the power of my emotions.

Exactly, wrote Godric. What are your emotions right now?

Harry thought he knew where this was going. Frustration, he wrote, remembering the way the people in Hogwarts had been completely defenceless in the face of his and Snape's little fake attack.

Fear. They would have died if that had been reality. So many of them would have died.

Anger. Whenever he saw a deatheater, he had to fight the urge to hurt that person more than was necessary. And he was also angry at the many people living, seemingly, so much too carelessly in the castle. Why didn't they acknowledge the danger they were in? He was working so hard to save them. Why didn't they try harder to save themselves?

Anger at whom?, wrote Godric Gryffindor, whereupon Harry recounted their little experiment of the afternoon and its outcome.

Only at them? They are the victims, young Harry. They are going through a very hard time. If they do not try hard enough to develop skills to defend themselves, it is because they are so tired, they have gone through so much already, that they cannot fight anymore. They have to rest.

Harry sighed. He was beginning to feel a little ashamed of the way he had affronted the people in the Great Hall. He could understand how a man after, for example, having lost his wife to the deatheaters, could not help his mourning and would want to help his children cope with the loss rather than training some self-defence curse. If these people failed to become good fighters, it was not because they were lazy. It was because they simply lacked the energy.

I think you are right, wrote Harry. I should not be angry at them.

Indeed you should not, the old wizard answered. I have the impression that you are a very angry man, Harry. Is there anybody else you are angry at?

The more Harry thought about that, the more people entered his mind, and as he began to list them in the book, he began to realize how much anger he had held bottled up inside of him for such a long time. Aside from Voldemort and his deatheaters, the list he wrote to Gryffindor included several news reporters who, at different times in his life, had told lies about him, then Cornelius Fudge of course, and even the Dursleys were mentioned. Harry wrote about a particularly nasty human guard in Azkaban, about a woman who, after Harry had failed to save her young daughter from a deatheater's fatal curse, had punched him in the face and hysterically accused him of working for the enemy. Then he mentioned Sirius Black.

He is the biggest traitor of all of them, Harry wrote. I wish I didn't have to see him every day, but he is helping to teach the people to fight and to secure the castle, and we need all the help we can get.

You are very angry at your godfather, are you not?

He is not my godfather, Harry replied. I hate him.

Do you?

Yes.

And you are angry at him?

Yes.

Harry was growing exasperated. Why did he have to answer the same questions over and over again?

And you are angry at Voldemort as well?

Yes. What did that man want? He had already written that.

No, I do not think you are. Anger is not the same as hatred, Harry. I believe that you hate Voldemort. But would you call it anger what you feel?

Thinking about it, Harry found that he agreed with Gryffindor. You are right, he wrote. I'm not really angry at Voldemort. I cannot be, because –

Harry paused, collecting his thoughts, searching his emotions. Because I do not understand him in the least.

No, that wasn't it exactly, Harry thought. He tried again. I think you can only be angry at somebody if you expect something good of that person and that expectation is not fulfilled, he wrote. Or rather, if what that person does is worse than you expect, worse than what you think you've got a right to expect of that person.

Bravo, Harry, wrote Gryffindor. I agree with you.

So I am not angry at Voldemort because I never expected anything but the very worst deeds imaginable from him.

Yes indeed, wrote Gryffindor. And if you expect something of a person that is in any way, shape or form good – would you say you hate that person?

Harry smiled. Conversation between himself and Godric Gryffindor, equal though he sometimes felt when writing with that man, tended to end up in student-teacher situations.

I see. I believe I do not hate Sirius Black, after all.

I believe you do not, either. I believe you rather care about him a lot.

Out of respect for this old, wise, famous sorcerer, Harry tried hard not to allow his outrage to be visible in his writing. I absolutely do not care about Sirius Black, he wrote, so fast that his handwriting looked rather messy. Not at all.

When we cease caring about somebody, Harry, we cease to feel anger towards that person, too. Think about it.

But Harry didn't want to. He had spent too much thought on Sirius Black as it was, he was not going to add to that. That man had lost the privilege of Harry's concern.

I believe that there is one other person you are angry at, Harry, that you have not yet mentioned.

Harry was beginning to get a little angry at Gryffindor, when he thought about it, but he refused to write that down. How dare that man make him feel so… childish? So what if he had a little anger problem? Harry thought he had every right to be angry. He hadn't had an easy or a pleasant life, people kept treating him badly, to that day even, impossible things were expected of him and if Voldemort was not taken care of, it would be his fault, his responsibility. Everything, it seemed, was always his responsibility. Who would not get angry sometimes, in his situation?

You work very hard, Gryffindor wrote. Too hard, in fact. You know it, yet you do not change it. When you fail to save somebody, no matter how impossible it was to save that person, you think about it a lot more than you should. You try to please everybody, to help everybody, so much that you end up with no time at all to spend for yourself, your own recreation, your pleasure. You, whose emotional balance is a decisive requirement for the destruction of the dark forces, are probably one of the unhappiest, one of the most discontented people in the castle.

Tell me, Harry. Are you not, in a way, even angry at yourself?

That evening, after an extensive and extremely annoying treatment by Madame Pomfrey, Severus was finally allowed to leave the infirmary. The bruise around his eye was no longer there, his broken jaw had been mended and the seven teeth that Black had hit out of his mouth in his thoughtless attack against the defenceless man had been regrown, the process of which had taken the longest and been the most painful one of all of them. Much to the annoyance of the Potions Master, the newly grown teeth were so ridiculously white that he felt uncomfortable opening his mouth. He had opened a fierce argument over the issue, but the medi-witch had remained stubborn. "What do you mean, they're too white? Severus, if you think that I'll give you a bad quality treatment because of your… your outdated idea of upholding a reputation, then you're… well, you're out of your mind! I have sworn an oath that I will aid all of my patients to the best of my ability, and that is exactly what I will do!"

Severus had left the infirmary shortly after that. He would have to develop a potion to fix this problem, or maybe even use an illusion charm. Anything was better that to put up with an angry Madame Pomfrey, he had made that experience more than once.

Not feeling like dealing with any more prying people who would stare at him, ask about his well-being or want to talk to him about the fake attack, his excellent duelling skills and possibly even his strange looking teeth, he decided to go outside and sit by the lake, where one could still enjoy the warm summer nights, sit by oneself and think. Aside from Harry's and his Chamber of Secrets, there was absolutely no place in the castle where he felt comfortable anymore. With more and more people pouring in seeking refuge every day, the Hogwarts had become terribly overcrowded and was now among the most uncomfortable living places imaginable for decent people who required at least a little privacy. And there was always noise. How he hated that noise.

As he sat at the lake, leaning against the trunk of an old oak, enjoying his solitude and pondering life, Severus suddenly noticed a person coming his way from the direction of the castle. Casting a spell on his eyes that provided him with a binocular view for a few seconds, he recognized the figure as one of the last persons he wished to see at the moment. It was Sirius Black, the man responsible for his lengthy stay in the hospital and for the pitiable condition of his teeth.

Severus had mixed feelings about the man. He was still far from forgiving him for what he had done to Harry, who had become his best friend in the world next to Albus Dumbledore – not that he would ever voice that feeling. And that friendship and the loyalty he felt towards Harry would probably make him hold that grudge against Black for the rest of his life.

And yet he couldn't help but admire the way Black was acting. In spite of the constant accusations he received from the public and the contempt that he had to face all the time, he didn't become bitter or spiteful or drown in self pity. No, Sirius Black was working as hard as anybody to ensure the safety and comfort of the people at Hogwarts, work with Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix against the regular attacks of the Deatheaters, calm and comfort the people at Hogwarts, teach lessons in Defence against the Dark Arts to anybody who was interested. Severus was sure that Black, that Gryffindor, was just doing that to ease his own feeling of guilt, yet it was also slowly improving his reputation at Hogwarts, as some people came to think of him as a victim of Cornelius Fudge's cunning scheming, rather than a traitor who acted just of his own malice. He wasn't sure what Harry's current feelings for his godfather were. He seemed a far cry from forgiving him, too, but Severus was beginning to think that Harry also respected him for the effort he put into making the situation good at Hogwarts.

Slowly, almost shyly, Black approached the tree under which he was sitting, not meeting his eyes until he stood very near the tree.

"Do you mind if I join you here?"

"Go ahead", said Severus. Black sat down in the grass just opposite of him, so that they were facing each other.

Sirius sighed. "Snape, I've come to apologize. I should not have hit you like that when you couldn't defend yourself. I'm sorry for… for the pain and the discomfort I caused you."

Snape snorted. "Oh yes, some discomfort it was. Do you have any idea how long I had to spend in Madame Pomfrey's little torture chamber? It ruined my whole afternoon and it was very unpleasant indeed. And let me tell you that you even caused some permanent damage."

Sirius was shocked. "Really? What?"

"My teeth…"

"Oh, Merlin! Don't tell me she couldn't grow them back or something! It can't be that hard! They can even regrow bones, what's so bad about teeth?"

Severus smirked at Sirius' discomfort. "I have got all my teeth back, Black, or I wouldn't be able to speak as well as I do now. But I'm afraid they will never be restored to the way they were before."

"God… believe me or not, Snape, but I am truly sorry about that. I thought you… well, you know what I thought. I should have trusted you – I mean, Albus does, and Harry certainly does. That should be reason enough for me, too. I should never have judged you without letting you speak first."

And that last sentence brought all of Snape's anger up that he had been feeling, with varying intensity, ever since he had heard the story of how this man was responsible for the misery of Potter, his friend.

"Yes, you judged way too quickly. And not for the first time, either."

Sirius sighed sadly. Pulling up his knees, he rested his arms on them and his forehead on his arms. When he finally spoke, his voice was somewhat muffled so that Severus had to listen harder to understand him.

"You will never forgive me for that, will you?"

Snape dryly answered, "I don't think that I will, no."

"And Harry?"

"I don't know what Potter is thinking or will be thinking in the future…"

"If anybody knows, it's you, Snape. I don't think there is anybody who he's closer to right now, or anybody he spends more time with. You're pretty much his best friend, aren't you? Now that he's training so much and preparing for the big fight and hardly ever leaves the Chamber of Secrets anymore, you're the person he talks to the most, aren't you?"

Snape remained silent.

Sirius drew a deep breath, then said quietly: "Thank you for that, Snape. Thank you for being there for Harry right now. He needs you, and you must be a great friend to him to get him to trust you that much."

Feeling a little flustered, Snape answered: "Well, it's not like it's one-sided. Potter is as much of a friend to me as I am trying to be to him. In fact, I am quite certain that I would be far from the person I am now if it hadn't been for Potter, and I'm not only saying that because he freed me from the influence of those dreadful Dementors. He is… he is loyal… I can confide in him and he in me… and he is the most entertaining person to be around when he's in a good mood… which he isn't all that much anymore, but still."

Sirius smiled slightly. "You know, I could have had that. I could be Harry's best friend right now. But I'm not, because I blew it. It's my own fault."

Severus didn't answer. What could he say to that? It was true.

"And you can't imagine how it… how it _kills _me. . ."

Sirius started to sound choked up. Merlin, please don't start crying now, thought Severus.

"It _kills _me to know what pain I've put him through."

"I know", said Severus. "That's obvious to everybody."

Sirius looked at him questioningly.

"Well, just look at the way to act up at the castle. You must be the. . . why, exactly the fourth most dedicated worker there, right after Albus, Harry and, of course, Hermione, who has always taken on more than she could manage. You help anybody with any problem they might have, you organize the accommodations of the newcomers, you give classes to prepare the people for the upcoming fights, and when there's a Deatheater attack, you're the first person to put your own life on the line because you might be able to save an innocent."

"Well, er. . . thank you, I try. But I don't see what that's got to do with Harry."

"Really? It looks to me – and to many people I've spoken to, as a matter of fact – as though you're trying to make up for your past mistakes."

"That I. . . what?" Sirius spluttered. "That's. . . how stupid is that? I don't expect to. . . to make up what I did to Harry by helping other people now! I know I can't make that up so easily!"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "_So easily?_"

Sirius sighed. "You're right. . . you're right. I know I can't make that up _at all. Ever._"

"Well, I'm glad you understand that."

Sirius nodded. "That has nothing to do with the way I act these days. I just. . . I consider it as my duty to do as much as I can to help in this blasted war, in any way I can, and in any way it's necessary."

Severus smiled.

It's funny how he smiles so much lately, thought Sirius. He never used to.

"I think that's an admirable attitude, Black", admitted Severus. "And a rare one in this world full of self-centred bigots who rely on their chosen hero to. . . why, to sacrifice himself if necessary, while they don't bother to contribute to the effort at all."

Sirius was surprised how much the Potions Master apparently despised the many people at Hogwarts who tried to live their lives as happily as possible under the circumstances. It was probably because they seemed to care so little and because Harry was going to put his own life in danger for them. Snape must really care about Harry, he decided.

"You know, when I see how Potter treats those people up at the castle. . . he's so bloody _nice _to them, sometimes I think he doesn't even mind having to fight for them", said Severus. "You realize it's only for other people that he fights. Not for himself. He could have the greatest life, live in luxury now, if he had joined Voldemort – but he didn't because those people would be harmed. Or he could have fled. I daresay that Potter has enough magical stamina to build himself a hideout that even the Dark Lord would not find or could not enter. But he chose not to. He chose to stay here and put his life on the line for those people."

"_Those people?_", Sirius countered. "It's not strangers he's fighting for, Snape. It's his friends. _Those people _include Albus, Hermione, Minerva, Neville, all the Weasleys. . . and you, Snape, though you might not like that fact."

Severus grunted. "Indeed not. I loathe owing life debts. And if he fails. . . if he fails, may God have mercy on all of us."

For a minute, they both looked out at the lake. The calmness of the water and the beauty of the stars reflected on the surface were a painful contrast to the turmoil going on in their minds. If Voldemort won, surely, all beauty would soon be gone from their world forever.

"You know, Snape", said Sirius, "I'm sure that if anybody can defeat the Dark Lord, it's Harry, and I haven't even seen the latest developments."

"I am glad you have so much faith in him", answered Severus. "What we have been working on is less defensive and offensive spells so much as it's. . . emotions, kind of. Getting a grip on his mind. Legilimency tactics. He is quite skilled at that."

"And you think that will be important?"

"We know it will, after what happened at the Ministry. And yes, I am very confident in Potter's abilities as well. But the chances will never be great. The Dark Lord has proven to be unpredictable in every way, and by all means, he is anything but stupid and will not be tricked into letting Potter invade his mind again very easily." Suddenly, Severus' expression turned stern. "You will not tell anybody about our strategy, I hope?"

Sirius was stunned and offended. "W. . . WHAT? _Of course_ not, I'm not crazy! Do you think I'm a _traitor_ or something?"

But before Severus could answer, Sirius started to laugh loudly, almost insanely. "Of course!" he gasped between fits of laughter. "Of course you think I'm a traitor! I've proven…" As Sirius laughed, tears started to run down his cheeks. "I've already proven to be a traitor, haven't I? What else could you possibly think of me?"

Severus just watched Sirius Black in silence as the laughter died down but the tears didn't. Soon the former auror was resting his head in his hands and trying desperately to stifle his sobs. Even though Snape had disliked this man ever since they had been in school together, and even though he knew that he deserved all the guilt he was feeling, Snape couldn't help feeling sorry for Black. Potter's influence has made me soft, he thought, a little annoyed with his own emotions. Black wiped his face with his hands and looked at the ground, embarrassed.

"If it helps, Black", said Snape, "I know for a fact that Potter does not entirely hate you."

Sirius looked up. "He doesn't?"

"No, though why ever not I will never understand. You would certainly deserve it."

"What did he say about me?" asked Sirius. "How exactly does he… feel?" Snape snorted. "What Potter tells me in confidence, Black, will stay between him and me. I have told you how much I value his friendship and I am not about to throw it away. What he wants you to know, he will let you know, I am sure."

"I hope so," Sirius responded. "He certainly didn't say anything to indicate he was about to forgive me when we last talked, but that was a long time ago. I'm hoping that maybe he has begun to change his mind."

"When was the last time you talked to him?" Snape asked.

"The day after the trial and the fall of the ministry headquarters, when I had just found out the truth. . . when I went to apologize to him", Sirius said and sighed, remembering what was clearly one of the most painful episodes of his life.

Walking down the empty corridor in silence, Sirius felt his dread growing steadily the nearer they came to the hospital wing. He was going to talk to Harry. He was going to apologize to Harry for not having believed him, for having wrongfully imprisoned him. In Azkaban. It would be the hardest thing he had ever done, he knew, to look into the eyes of his godson after all he had done to him. And what could he say? What could he possibly say to Harry now? No words on earth could even begin to phrase a suitable apology for his ultimate betrayal.

Dumbledore, walking next to him, had not said a word more than necessary. The usual gentleness and the playful spark had left Dumbledore's eyes, which were cold and unfriendly. Sirius didn't blame him.

When they reached the entrance to the hospital wing, the headmaster addressed Sirius. "I hope you understand that the conversation you are about to have will be held completely under Harry's conditions."

Sirius nodded. "Yes… of course", he whispered. He was getting so nervous he was shaking.

"Do not touch Harry. If he tells you not to come any nearer, you don't. If he tells you to stop talking, you don't say another word. And if he tells you to leave, you get out of there immediately and without question. Do you understand?"

"Yes… Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore nodded. Without another word, let alone an encouraging gesture such as a smile, he turned around and left, leaving Sirius alone in front of the large door that was the entrance to the hospital wing. Sirius swallowed, took a deep breath and entered.

Harry was in a bed at the far left of the room. The head piece was propped up so that Harry was almost in a sitting position and Madam Pomfrey was with him, holding a potion in her hand.

"… weak as your body still is as we speak, I honestly cannot understand why you are in such a hurry to leave this hospital. Even if I release you tomorrow – against my better judgement, I might add – I will still need to check on you the day after to see if you… oh."

She had just noticed Sirius Black standing in the open door and watching the scene nervously. Harry looked back at him with a stony expression.

"Right", said Madame Pomfrey. "I will leave you alone, then. If you wish to contact me, Mr Potter, you know how to." That said she left the room.

Sirius slowly walked over to where Harry was. He had thought about what he was going to say over and over in his head, but now that he was face to face with his Godson, it was a hundred times harder. Just looking at Harry, he felt like breaking down crying, and he hadn't even said a word yet.

Sirius took a deep breath and quietly began talking.

"I would like to thank you for… for agreeing to talk to me, Harry… or rather for listening to what I want to say to you."

"So we're back on a first-name basis, are we?" Harry's cold and emotionless expression did not change as he answered. "The last time we exchanged words you called me Potter, and not in the friendliest tone."

Not knowing how to respond to that comment, Sirius chose to ignore it and say what he had come to say instead before he lost his nerve completely.

"I have come to apologize."

Sirius sat down on the bed next to Harry's only a few meters from where Harry was. Their eyes were now on the same level. Harry just looked at him, so Sirius decided to continue talking.

"I am very. . . very sorry. . ."

Sirius paused, trying in vain to swallow the lump in his throat and feeling his eyes prickling with tears already.

". . . for being the reason why you spent. . . _years_. . . in Azkaban. Of course I don't understand what you went through because of your. . . special sensitivity to Dementors, but if it was even half as bad as. . . as my own experience. . . then it was worse than I can put into words."

Sirius couldn't help a sob escaping his lips and a few tears running down his face.

"I betrayed you, Harry… and I betrayed your parents, whom I told I would take care of you. And I would… I would…"

Sirius' voice faltered. He looked at the ground, balled his hands to fists and pursed his lips in an effort not to cry, but failed and succumbed to tears and violent sobs that shook his whole upper body. Harry said nothing and just watched him. The expression on his face was as stony as when Sirius had first entered the hospital wing.

When Sirius finally regained most of his composure, he looked Harry straight into the eyes.

"I will not beg for your forgiveness tonight because I know… that what I did to you is beyond forgiving. But please… believe me when I tell you that I would… give my life to make it undone."

There were a few moments of silence before Harry spoke. "I would like to know what you were thinking."

"What I was…"

"I would like to know how you could believe it possible that I murdered my best friend and his parents, who have been like family to me since I was twelve." Harry had not wanted to let his Godfather know how much he had hurt him, but he couldn't help himself as the anger he had held bottled up for so long sought an outlet. His voice became louder and higher as he spoke. "I want to know how you, who at the time knew me as well as anybody, could accept that I had turned traitor with zero proof! Why you believed Fudge, Fudge of all people, over me!"

Sirius was fighting his tears again. "I'm so sorry, Harry… I just. . . didn't see why he would lie to me. I was sure he was on our side. Fudge was… he was important to me at that time. He had given me a job at the ministry when I—"

"He made you his puppet", Harry interjected.

"I know. I know he did. But he made me feel… important. He made me feel good about myself."

"And I didn't?"

"Of course you did, Harry. I just thought… I thought he was my friend. And I didn't see a reason why he… would hurt me like that. Why he would make those terrible accusations against you unless… unless they were true."

"I just can't believe you could think me a murderer after all we had been through together", Harry whispered. "Do you realize how much I trusted you? You knew everything about me, Sirius – what I was doing, what I was thinking, what I was wishing for… we were spending so much time together it was like you were my father…"

Sirius hid his face with his hands and his body shook all over. "I'm… I'm so sorry, Harry. So very sorry…"

When Sirius finally managed to stop crying, he looked at Harry. Harry's eyes were dry and his gaze cold and impassive. "Well, I believe we have both said what there is to be said, haven't we?"

Sirius nodded slowly, trying to hide the endless sadness he was feeling at the sound of finality in Harry's voice. "Will I… talk to you again?"

Harry blinked and his eyes hardened until he almost looked angry. "I think it likely that we will have to work together in the future to take care of Voldemort and the havoc he wreaks. But you will without a doubt understand that I have no desire whatsoever to establish any kind of relationship with you."

Sirius stood. "I understand. Thank you for hearing me out, Harry."

Harry nodded. As Sirius turned to leave, he felt his face begin to crumble again, but held back his tears until he was back in the hallway, away from the man he had betrayed. Swiftly making his way down the many stairs of Hogwarts to the main entrance, he let the tears flow down his face freely, not caring about the stares of the people he met along the way.

What had he expected? He had said it himself: what he had done to Harry was beyond forgiving. So why had it hurt him so much when Harry had said that he wanted nothing to do with him anymore? Why had he hoped, secretly, that just perhaps Harry might forgive him after all?

Because of the coldness, the lack of emotion in his eyes during their conversation, Sirius would never have dreamed that at that very moment, Harry, lying in his hospital bed, was shedding tears as well.

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Teaching is a cool job, thought Ronny Longbottom as he entered the little apartment that had been assigned to him and his family. Even though his father Neville, one of the top aurors stationed at the castle, was among the most respected people presently residing in Hogwarts City, they had only been assigned a very small place to live because there was just no space to keep all the people that were coming in from all over Europe. Ronny didn't care. He was willing to do all he could to make life at Hogwarts as pleasant as possible. He was willing to contribute all he could to the war effort.

For several weeks now, he, Leon and Martin had been teaching some young kids, eight to ten years old, how to react in case of a deatheater attack. That was not what the children were told they were doing, of course. For them, it was a game to learn where in the castle the best hiding places were, how to shoot colors out of their wands to attract attention, where the secret passages were that would get them out of the castle in case of an attack. And for Ronny and his friends, it was fun too, seeing the success of their teaching and also the fun these children, most of whom had already lost family members to the war, could still have. What Ronny also found amazing was the respect he got. The kids did what he told them to without question. Few ever disobeyed. They respected him without being given a reason other than the fact that he was older than they were. They accepted the authority of their teachers without question. Ronny found it weird, personally, but he felt comfortable in his new role.

The little apartment was empty, as it usually was in those days. His parents were working somewhere, as always, his father, as a top auror, taking on the most dangerous jobs. Ronny wondered where his dad might be, whether he was fighting, whether he was looking at the corpse of a dead victim at the moment. He lived in constant fear that something would happen to his father. Sometimes he had nightmares of somebody coming to him to say that his father had died in a deatheater attack. Of course he would never tell his parents that, just like he would never tell them about the nightmares that haunted him about the kidnapping. They had got enough problems on their minds already.

Ronny sat down at his desk and opened the first-year spell book that was lying in the middle of it. He had for a while been thinking about teaching the kids Wingardium Leviosa – the levitation spell. Most people had trouble learning it in first year, and the children he and his friends taught were even younger than that, but they had been making such rapid progress that he thought some of them would actually master the spell after training for a bit. And it could come in very handy, he knew. If part of the castle collapsed, and something fell on top of somebody or blocked one of the emergency exits… then he remembered that Hermione Granger had once told him that she had, in her first year, knocked out a mountain troll using a levitation spell. He smiled. You just use trolls when you come, Voldemort, he thought as a private little joke. Bring as many trolls as you wish. My class will take care of them.

There was a knock at the door and Ronny went to open it, coming to stand face to face with Sirius Black, the former head of the ministry's auror division, now the most despised person among the people fighting Voldemort.

"Good afternoon, Mr Longbottom", said the man and the sadness on his face told Ronny that there were bad news.

"What is it?" he demanded, immediately thinking of his father.

"I have come to tell you that your father is in the hospital wing."

"What happened?" Ronny gasped as he pushed his way past Black and out the door and proceeded to go to the hospital wing with fast steps.

"A deatheater's spell", said Black, trying to catch up with the boy, who took up more and more speed. "Do not worry, Mr Longbottom. The injury is neither very serious, nor is it permanent. Nothing Madam Pomfrey will not be able to heal, given time. Professor Snape is working on the potion as we speak."

The fact that his father was in the hospital wing and that a potion not in store had to be prepared to heal whatever he had was enough to make Ronny worry, no matter what Black said to try and console him. He did not diminish his speed until he was standing in the hospital wing, where he recognized the bed his father occupied immediately by the group of people standing around it, the mediwitch and his mother among them. A few moments later, he was standing next to his mother and looking down at his father who, with pain clearly written all over his face, tried to smile at him.

"Hello, son."

Ronny looked from his face to his legs, which were unclothed. There were bloody slashes all over both his legs as though somebody had deliberately cut into them with a knife. After a few seconds of looking at the wounds, Ronny realized with horror that new slashes kept appearing every few seconds as he looked on, accompanied by winces and hisses of pain of his father. He could not help the tears shooting into his eyes as he looked back at the sweaty face of the auror.

"Dad… oh Merlin, dad…"

"Shh… it's okay, son. You should… see the other guy."

Ginny, who was holding on to her husband's hand, started sobbing quietly, and Neville smiled at her before looking back at his son.

"Professor… Snape is working on a potion that will… make all of this go away immediately. He and I have been special… special friends ever since my school days." Ginny shook her head in amazement and Neville chuckled a little. "So he will try partic…" He winced and shivered all over his body as a exceptionally large slash appeared on his right thigh. "Particularly hard to make that potion… well and fast. That man is a true master in his field."

Ronny wiped away his tears, embarrassed. If his father could bear all that pain and still make jokes, then he, Ronny, should at least be able to keep some composure watching it. When he finally felt in control of his feelings, Ronny looked up and looked around. The hospital wing looked as it always did after the aurors had returned from the scene of a Deatheater attack: all the beds were occupied with aurors and other victims of the Deatheaters' cruelties. Most of the injuries looked dangerous as well as terribly painful – one was better off, Ronny thought, not looking at them too closely. And there were very few aurors who escaped these Deatheater fights will less than severe injuries – especially this time, it seemed there was not a man in the room who was not wounded in some way or another. Well, except one…

"Look at you, Black!" a man suddenly spat, glaring at Sirius Black with pure hatred in his eyes. Ronny knew the speaker in passing, it was an auror called Watson.

Black looked back at Watson emotionlessly.

"Isn't it funny, Black, that you are once again the only man in the party unharmed?" said Watson. "You know, whenever you return from a fight, you usually look like you haven't fought at all! Curious, huh?"

Sirius said nothing, but looked down.

"And then", said Watson, "you dare to show your face in the hospital wing and feign pity for the injured, pretend to care, pretend to want to help…"

"Shut your trap, Watson!" snapped Neville Longbottom. "You would not… think that… if you had seen Sirius take down five… five people at once today…" Ginny laid a hand on Neville's arm. "Shht," she said, "don't talk, you must rest…"

"Oh, are you _blind_, Longbottom?" yelled Watson. "Hasn't that man shown his true colours plainly enough? He's just trying to suck up to you all! He wants to get back in his comfortable position, wants to be the boss again! He thinks that if he acts like he's all remorse, they'll let him go unpunished for his crimes… and sometimes I think they really might!"

Neville opened his mouth to protest, but instead he moaned in pain as another big slash appeared on his left leg. Sirius looked up at Watson.

"If you have something to say to me, Watson, say it to my face, but let Neville Longbottom out of it. The man needs to rest."

As a reply, Watson looked at Sirius with hatred and spat him in the face. Wiping his face, Sirius turned and left the hospital wing wordlessly.

For a few minutes, Ronny sat at his father's side and pondered the situation of Sirius Black, a man he had once looked up to. It was true, the man had made many mistakes, and very grave mistakes, that many would say were unforgivable. But like his father, Ronny believed that the effort the man was showing was honest effort, and the remorse true remorse. Could he be forgiven? Should he be forgiven? And who was to decide that… a court? Would there be a trial for Sirius Black after the threat of the Dark Lord had been turned away? Ronny wasn't sure what he himself felt towards the man…

At some point, Severus Snape entered with the potion for his father, and Ronny was very relieved to see that indeed, the slashes in his legs started to disappear immediately, and so did the pain. "Thank you, Professor Snape," said Neville Longbottom, truly grateful.

Snape nodded. "You are welcome, Mr. Longbottom. And beware of that curse in the future. If it had hit you at another part of your body, it might have left some permanent damage before the potion was ready."

As Snape said these few words, Neville began to smile, and his smile grew wider and wider, and then he laughed outright. Snape frowned. "And what would be so funny about that?" he demanded to know.

Neville sobered. "Nothing is funny, Professor. I just… I just want to compliment you on your new look, it is quite marvellous. I believe I have never seen a man with teeth quite so… well, so shiny and white."

Snape was horrified. He would have to do something about those teeth really, really fast.

Neville laughed. "You know, you should really consider partaking in the Most-Charming-Smile competition of Witch Weekly magazine! You might – hey, Snape! You might even beat Gilderoy Lockhart!"

But Snape had escaped the last part of that sentence by striding out of the hospital wing as fast as his dignity allowed.


End file.
